


the worst found family ever

by staubfingers



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack, Domestic, Enemies to Friends to Family, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Drama, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, POV Multiple, drinking wine all the time, everyone being an asshole now and then, fighting half of the time, found family trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23932213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staubfingers/pseuds/staubfingers
Summary: Of course, at first Palermo was sure this thing wouldn't last long, hell, probably Sergio would have agreed, because just look at him! The guy is the most inexperienced, awkward, boring loner anyone could imagine, and there is no way in hell a sane human being will stay in a relationship with him. Seems like he overestimated the Inspectora, though, who still looks very much in love after spending more than a week with Sergio. It's unbelievable.When Raquel goes to Palawan it's not just Sergio she finds there. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 103
Kudos: 327





	1. Raquel and the dinner from hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a little, silly all-is-well story. There are a lot of first for me: first multi-chapter, first multi-povs, first fic about established relationships, and I'm really looking forward to write the rest. At first I wanted to write a oneshot from Raquel pov, but that limited what I could write about so each chapter will have another pov.  
> Despite all of them being more or less mean to each other this will be mostly light-hearted and fluffy, I think I just need something to take my mind off of all the horrible shit that is going on right now, and I'm probably not the only one. Oh, and this means Berlin is not sick either, and not an ablsulte asshole (at least not to Palermo).  
> Have fun with this and beware! I learned English in school and this will contain stupid mistakes!

Raquel has a horrible track record with men. Boyfriends who cheated on her, dates who never called back, a colleague who pined after her even years after their one-night-stand, and of course a husband who beat her. Still, she's surprised – no, horrified – when she falls for the guy she's supposed to arrest and looses her job over it.

At first she tries to forget, to tell herself he merely used her, that all the things he told her and made her feel were means to an end, but it doesn't work. She feels the ghost of his hands on her skin and his lips on hers if she only concentrates hard enough, and more nights than not she falls asleep to the memory of his smile and a tight feeling in her stomach and chest. Then he sends the postcards and she's finds out where he is one year after he left, still missing him like no time had past at all.

It might be a sign of her insanity that she decides to not go to police with the cards, well, maybe not too insane taking into account how they've treated her the last few months, but instead looks for a way to get to Palawan without anyone noticing. She just wants to talk to him, wants to finally find some peace with what happened between them. At least this is what she tells herself. She still takes her mother and daughter since if, and it's a big if, she decides to stay she can hardly get them out of Spain without the possibility of someone following them.

So they go to Turkey and spend a few days in a nice resort before she leaves them behind to “do some work”, and for the first time she's nearly glad about her mother's horrible memory. When she arrives a week later in Palawan she is so nervous that she wants to run away, but refuses to give up after coming all this way without even seeing him. And when her eyes finally land on him it's like the trepidation of the last few months is just gone and she is back to the few days she spent with him in wonderful ignorant bliss.

Sergio looks just like she remembers him and different all the same. He practically beams, his whole body signalling relaxation, something that was unthinkable when she first met him. Without even realizing she's doing so she walks the distance and is suddenly in his arms, face pressed into the crook of his neck, and inhaling his familiar scent.

“I was afraid you wouldn't come,” he whispers into her hair, holding on just so much tighter.

“I had to,” she admits.

“I'm so glad that you're here.”

She leans a few centimetres back, places her hand on his cheek and takes him fully in, all the months of missing him, of licking her wounds, forgotten. “Me too,” she tries to say, but it gets lost in her lips pressing against his. It's a short, almost chaste kiss due to their public surroundings, but she feels breathless and embarrassingly turned on all the same.

They go for a walk on the beach, talking about the time they've spent apart without either of them mentioning the heist and the consequences it had on her life. It's a rather superficial conversation, and she doesn't care at all, only enjoys being so close to him, feeling is hand in hers and the warm sand between her toes. There will be enough time to _talk_ , she decides, for the moment the only thing that matters it the pure happiness they are both feeling.

When the sun sets they come to heavy gate and just as Sergio is about to put a key into the lock he stops mid-motion, serious look suddenly on his face. “I have to tell you something, Raquel,” he sighs.

She feels the nervousness coming back at once, her mind rattling with all the things he's possibly hiding behind those gates. He opens his mouths again, but it's another voice she hears, “Ahh, what a pleasant surprise.”

As if being hit she turns around and comes face to face with a man she prayed to never meet again, “I see you found a way to bring your girlfriend here despite my strong advice not to, brother.”

“Brother,” she repeats like an idiot and turns back to Sergio who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“I think, we have _a lot_ of talking to do,” the voice behind her says.

Yes, Raquel has a horrible track record with men, so why is she even surprised that the criminal she fell in love with is related to a psycho whom he seems to live with on top of it? Of course, it gets somehow even worse.

-

Her first instinct is to run and despite being aware that it's not a good idea to set a foot into the same house as Berlin she still goes, refusing to let him see how much he gets under her skin.

“I'm sorry,” Sergio mouths and she ignores him, his presence a comforting reminder that nothing will happen to her, though.

They end up in a nice entrance hall and walk directly into what seems to be a dining room. The round table is already set and even though she's curious about the way Sergio lives she's somehow too fraught to take any of it in.

“I'll get another plate,” Berlin announces and disappears in a swift motion. 

“God, Raquel, I'm so sorry. I thought they would be gone longer and we could talk in peace before you'll meet. I know the two of you had not the best start-”

“Yeah,” she huffs and thinks back to the day she went into the Mint and he did his best to intimidate and mock her, “Your _brother_ is an asshole.” And creepy, she adds in her mind.

Sergio smiles weakly, “He certainly can be, but he has his good sides as well, you'll see-”

“Wait,” she interrupts him, “...' _they_ '?” Finally she takes the table in, “Why are there already three plates?”

“You've got to be kidding me!” another voice announces furiously and once again Raquel turns around immediately, this time so fast that her head swirls. She has seen the man's face, who is now storming into the room, wooden spoon raised like a weapon, only in the news, but still remembers meeting him the same day as Berlin. And he has been just as dislikeable. “What is _she_ doing here? Do you want to see us in prison, Sergio? Is your self-loathing that all consuming by now?” he spits out and wiggles the spoon in front of Sergio's face who looks slightly anxious.

“Hush, darling,” Berlin says and enters the room with the promised plate in his hand, “Nothing we can't talk about over dinner, I'm starving.” He puts his hand on the other men's – Palermo, Raquel remembers him calling himself Palermo – back and takes the spoon out of his hand. “Now help me with brining in the rest.”

Surprisingly, Palermo sinks into himself and follows Berlin out of the room, not without sending Raquel what's probably supposed a death-glare.

Too confused to say anything she looks at Sergio who only laughs weakly, “Well, I guess you remember Martín don't you?” _Martín_. The names and faces of Sergio's little band of robbers were all over the news the weeks following the heist, but she turned off the TV whenever she got the slightest glimpse at them, too heartbroken to stand any of it. 

“We should sit down,” Sergio suggest, reassuring smile on his face, and she just does since she'd rather gets it over with sooner than later. 

Unfortunately, there is no way to sit directly next to each other at a round table so Sergio settles for the next best. Taking a deep breath she places her hand on his thigh, “I hope the three of you aren't sharing a bedroom as well?”

His cheeks turn the slightest of red and she feels herself grinning despite the fucked-up-ness of this whole situation. “We certainly don't,” he says just as the other two re-enter, bowls with steaming content in their hands.

The moment Berlin sits down in front of her she realizes that she shouldn't have settled with Sergio next to her, but now it's probably to late to swap seats. She pulls her hand back anyway.

“Please,” Berlin tells her and points at the bowls. She fills some of the food onto her plate, it looks like fish and vegetables and smells rather delicious, but she doesn't feel hungry even though she hasn't eaten since the morning.

The men start to fill their plates as well, and when they've all finished Palermo growls, “So, care to enlighten us on why your risking our safety, our freedom, or _lives,_ by bringing her into our home? And all that without even _telling_ us?”

“Raquel is not a risk-” Sergio tries, but is interrupted right away.

“Not a risk? Not a risk?! Telling someone where three of the most wanted men are currently reside is _not. a. risk_?” Palermo emphasizes the last three words with slamming his hand onto the table.

At this point Raquel has lost her initial will to just keep silent and get it over with, and before Sergio can get another word out she says in a neutral, borderline friendly tone, “If I had told anyone where to find you, you'd be arrested by now. And as to prospective threats to your _freedom_ I'm not planning on telling a soul were to find you. If not for your sake than for my own.”

“Oh, this is not about your intentions, _Inspectora_ ,” Palermo spits the word out like it's an insult, and for a man like him it probably is, “But about Sergio, here, sharing our address without even thinking about informing us!”

“He's right,” Berlin says, he's the only one who started eating and looks more amused than angry, “You should have at least warned us.”

“I knew there was nothing you needed to be warned of,” Sergio says quietly, and while Raquel finds his trust in her flattering she has to agree that it was a more than stupid idea. Not that she'd say it out loud.

“Unbelievable,” Palermo moans, and opens one of the bottles of red wine that are standing on the table to fill his glass nearly to the brim.

“Nevertheless, I liked to know _why_ you didn't share our whereabouts with your friends. The last time we met you were all to willing to follow the good and just law,” Berlin grins and eyes her like a hunter his prey.

“Andrés!” Sergio hisses and looks even more uncomfortable than earlier outside.

“Since you brought her to live with us I think were are entitled to know more about your _relationship._ ”

He really enjoys it, this bastard, unfortunately for him she isn't intimidated that easily. “We are more than found of each other,” she says and takes a bite of her fish, “And I came here to see where it will take us. However, I have to say I'm surprised to find you two here,” with a small movement of her hand she points between Berlin and Palermo back and forth, “But it's nice to see that not too much has changed, you give the orders and he follows you like a puppy, still.”

Palermo nearly chokes on his already half-empty wine and is about to say something, but Berlin beats him to it, “And you're still the tough police-woman through and through. I heard they kicked you out, must be hard for such a self-righteous woman like you to suddenly not be any better than the rest of us.”

“I think this is still up for debate,” she smiles and takes one of the still closed bottles of wine, opens it and starts to fill her and Sergio's glasses. 

“Andrés, please, this is _not_ appropriate. I won't tolerate you talking to her like that any longer.”

“But brother, this is merely a friendly chat isn't it?” he gives Raquel such an open and warm smile that she would say he looked _friendly_ if she didn't know his criminal record and heard of what the hostages had said about him.

“It sure is,” she says, equally smiling and taking a sip of her wine.

“What I still don't get,” Palermo says, already slurring slightly, but taking his empty glass l into account it's probably no wonder, “You two knew each other for how long? Somewhat over a week? And now you are _in love_?" he laughs, "Anyway, my question is: how many Disney movies have you watched _exactly_ that you believe in that bullshit?”

“Do you want to say that love or a relationship is only real if one of them pins after the other like a helpless fool for nearly a decade?” Sergio asks with a raised eyebrow, and Raquel can the see anger glisten in his eyes.

“This is hardly your place-” Palermo starts, but Sergio interrupts him, “So when it's about you it's suddenly not okay to talk about personal matters. Interesting.”

“You know what?” Palermo says while refilling his glass, “I'm just _glad_ everything worked out fine for you two. Who would have thought that you'd forgive him after Sergio fucked you in order to destroy your career and print more money, which both worked out fine, didn't it?” He grins at Raquel and she takes another bite of the fish in order to not show him how much the reminder hurts. She got over the pain and humiliation of finding out the truth behind Sergio's first interest in her faster than she wants to admit, but hearing someone say it this way leaves still a bitter taste on her tongue.

“I'm really sorry, Raquel, if I had known how horrible these two will behave I would have never suggested to join them for dinner,” Sergio says and sounds defeated, “I think we should retire to more private rooms.”

“No,” she answers, too stubborn to let them win this, “I'm fine, and the dinner is quiet delicious, would be a waste to throw it away." She gives him a tight smile and to emphasize her words she takes another bite of the fish. It really is delicious, and her stomach growls in hunger. 

“Don't worry, we're absurdly rich now thanks to you,” Palermo says and she withstands the temptation to roll her eyes at that.

A few seconds go by in relative silence, only the clangour of cutlery against plates is to be heard, until Berlin breaks it, “So, how long do you plan on staying?”

“What did I say about personal questions?” Sergio growls.

“But this matter is concerning all of us isn't it?”

“We had no chance to talk about it since _someone_ interrupted us,” she says, tone back to neutral.

“I'm very sorry,” Berlin says and obliviously isn't.

She wants to tell him she's going to stay forever, but she doesn't know to whom it would be a bigger annoyance, to him or her?

“You could leave us alone now,” Sergio suggest without any hope in his voice.

“Your girlfriend already said it would be a horrible waste to throw away the delicious meal Palermo cooked for us.”

“It sure would, Berlin” he confirms with a flirtatious grin, and Raquel wonders why they're addressing each other with their stupid city-names. Maybe is a kink.

She takes another sip of her wine and her tongue moves considerably easier when she says, “You two being brothers explains a lot, I have to say. I remember asking myself 'why risk such a carefully planed heist with a liability like you'. Sure, your record spoke for you, but killing a hostage on the first day? Not a smart move considering you wanted the public to be in your favour.”

“But there you are mistaking, Inspectora, we never killed a hostage, only made them _believe_ we killed her,” Berlin smiles.

“You mean they made _you_ believe they killed her. Must have hurt to realize that little team of yours betrayed you right away.”

The dangerous look is back in his eyes and for the first time Raquel asks herself whether it's a good idea to aggravate a man like him, but then he suddenly starts to laugh and it nearly sounds real, “I'm afraid you're right with that, they were really ungrateful and unreliable from the start. But since you gained such great insides and had the dubious pleasure to meet her, tell me: who was the bigger liability in my brother plan, me or Tokyo?”

She wants to say it was him just to annoy him some more, decides to be honest, though, “Hurts to admit, but Tokyo was an even worse choice than you.”

“Ha!” Palermo cries out as if they had the argument many times, considering everything it's probably not too far from the truth. Even Berlin has a satisfied smile on his face, only Sergio looks defeated. “I realize things happened in the Mint that I did not see coming, but this does not mean-”

“Shush! Even your girlfriend is on our side,” Berlin grins and Raquel already regrets not calling him the bigger mistake. “Sorry,” she mumbles with a weak smile and Sergio returns it distinctly.

“She might not be as incompetent as I thought she was,” Berlin adds.

“Way to ruin a nice moment,” Raquel retorts.

“I'll promise to do better,” Berlin laughs and Raquel feels herself relax somewhat.

-

After this little verbal exchange the atmosphere gets, well, calling it pleasant would be exaggerated, but it's definitely not as strained and awkward as it had been when they sat down. No one really says anything and it's probably for the best, and as soon as she has finished her meal and wine Sergio gets up and announces they will now retire to his rooms. Raquel nearly laughs over his eagerness to get away, not that she doesn't share this need.

Palermo grins and tells them to not be too loud as she gets up as well, and it fastens the pace of Sergio's steps even more. He leads her along a wide hallway and through the windows she gets a look onto the beach, the water now shining red under the setting sun, and Raquel wonders what it would be like to wake up to that sight every morning.

Sergio's room is just like she has imagined it; a big bed, a small closet, an old desk, a comfortable looking armchair and shelves full of books. She feels the need to study each and every one of them, to go through his drawers just to learn more about him, to be _closer_. Her shoulders suddenly sink in and she realizes how much the dinner has drained her of her energy, and how desperately she wanted to be alone with him despite her not wanting to loose her face in front of Berlin of all people. 

“I'm so sorry, Raquel. I would never have thought...” he sighs, “Who am I lying to? I merely _hoped_ this would work out fine.”

They are standing in the middle of his room and she feels somewhat helpless with the sudden privacy, but taking the look on his face in he has quiet similar thoughts. It's weirdly comforting. With a shrug she says, “Well, it can hardly get worse. Only... please don't tell me you're _all_ living together!”

“No! Of course not. That would be too much of a risk.”

“Talking of risks, what have thought when sent those postcards?” she asks and her voice sounds more accusing than she intended to.

“What to you mean?” he looks somehow frightened, “I thought... but if I was wrong...”

“No,” she laughs, “No, you were not wrong at all.” She takes the few steps separating them and comes to a halt when only mere inches are between their faces and she can feel the heat he's radiating. “I'm glad that I came here, despite the pleasant dinner we just shared with your _flatmates_ ,” he laughs lowly at that, “but what if I really went to the police? You would have been thrown into prison by now, Sergio. You can't be so reckless.”

He smiles and even though it nearly looks sad her heart skips a beat. God, how much she has missed him. “I _had to_ reach out to you, I tried not to for your sake, but-” he shakes his head, “I wasn't sure you would come, but I knew you wouldn't tell anyone about it.”

“You're just as stupid as I am, huh?” She sinks back against him then, lets herself be held by his strong arms, buries the fingers of one hand in his smooth hair and slings the arm other around his back.

“I missed you so much Raquel, there was no day, no minute, I haven't thought about you,” he places a kiss on her temple, “There are so many things I have to explain to you, to apologise for.”

“But not today,” she mumbles, “I'm too tired for talking.”

“Okay. There is a guest-room-”

“Don't you dare to send me into a guest-room after I travelled all through Asia just to see you!”

He sighs and it sounds relieved, “I'll never send you anywhere.”

She wants to say that she will never go away, either, but it seems too soon since she probably shouldn't make promises after they had no time to talk nor to think about any of this. So instead she settles for placing a row of kisses on his neck. “Grab a shower with me?”

“Of course.”

“Take me to your bed after?”

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the police didn't find out Sergio and Andrés are brothers during the heist, but I'm not too sure anymore. And they probably would have after, but I'm not sure whether the information would have been revealed to the press. Whatever, if it happened Raquel would certainly not have seen the news.  
> Next chapter will be Palermo ;)


	2. Palermo and "Why is always someone in my kitchen?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I was and am really happy about all those kudos and lovely comments, you're all very sweet, thank you so much! This turned out waaay longer than I thought it would, and the next chapter will probably be somewhat shorter and I think I'll post it again in about a week, but we'll see.  
> I know I said it will be light-hearted and overall it is, but there is still a lot of fighting in this chapter, because how couldn't there be when these people are _forced_ to live together? And in the last paragraph are some mentions of past domestic violence, but nothing graphic, just so you know.  
> I think that's all for now, go on, have fun with this overly long chapter about Palermo being annoyed.

Palermo is annoyed. This in itself happens so often that it's actually not worth mentioning, but the reason _why_ he's annoyed it quite an unique one: Sergio has a _girlfriend_. Even thinking these words feels weird, let alone watch the guy doing _relationship stuff._

Of course, at first Palermo was sure this thing wouldn't last long, hell, probably Sergio would have agreed, because just look at him! The guy is the most inexperienced, awkward, boring loner anyone could imagine and there is no way a sane human being would stay in a relationship with him. Seems like he overestimated the Inspectora though, who's still looks very much in love after spending more than a week with Sergio. It's unbelievable.

“This is unbelievable!” Palermo announces and falls face down back onto the bed, letting out a frustrated sigh in the process.

“It's definitely is. You forgot my coffee _and_ my newspaper. Unless you're hiding it somewhere here.” Berlin's fingers find their way under his shirt and move slowly up as if to inspect every inch for the missing items.

Ignoring the pleasant touch Palermo continues: “She was there!”

“Who?”

“Oh, stop this,” Palermo growls and lifts his head up to see Berlin grinning down on him, “You know _exactly_ whom I'm talking about.”

“Of course, I do, but I fail to see why she kept you from making us coffee.”

“She was wearing an oversized, white shirt and _no pants._ And don't let me start on your brother, I had to see his bare chest! You know what they looked like? Like they were on a set of a romantic comedy! And these stupid smiles on their faces? Do you know what kind of smile? The 'I just got fucked' smile! And guess what they said when I walked in on them?”

“I'm sure you'll enlighten me,” Berlin says and moves one of his hands up to Palermo's hair to paint small circles into the scalp who immediately feels some of the tension ease out of his body.

“They said 'good morning'! Simultaneously!”

“Well, what else were they supposed to say?”

“They weren't supposed to say anything because they shouldn't even have been there! I don't want to know when they are having sex, I don't want to know your brother's post-orgasm face, I don't want her here at all!”

Berlin laughs at that, _laughs,_ “I'm afraid you get a little worked up about the whole thing, darling.”

“Shouldn't you be on my side?” Palermo growls and buries his face back into the pillow.

“I am on your side.”

“Doesn't feel like it,” Palermo says, voice muffled against the silk.

“Oh, come here,” Berlin sighs and with a strong grip around the waist he pulls Palermo more or less onto his lap. One hand cups his cheek, the other is placed on the nape of his neck, and Palermo has to concentrate on his breathing in order to not just sink in further into Berlin's warm body, to kiss his lips and feel the smooth skin under his own fingers. “I'm always on your side,” Berlin goes on with a glint in his eyes, revealing that he knows exactly what this sudden closeness is doing to Palermo, “However, my brother has never been that carefree and happy, before. And believe me, I'm just as discontent as you with the choice he made, but ever since we left the Mint he had this hollow look in his eyes, like a man who doesn't know his purpose in life. Honestly, I was afraid that we'll lose him to it, that his loneliness would make him reckless, and if it takes this woman for him to finally be back to his old self then I think we owe him at least some acceptance.”

“Gosh, I know that! Don't you think I wasn't worried about him just because he's an annoying little shit most of the time? But why has it to be _her_?”

“You know, love has mysterious ways to get to you,” Berlin smiles softly and leans in to plant a kiss on Palermo's cheek.

“They could be _happy_ somewhere else, couldn't they?” Palermo asks and tries not to moan as Berlin starts to kiss along his jawline and then down his neck to suck lazily on his pulse point.

“I'm afraid you'll have to learn to live with it,” Berlin answers as he lets go of the neck for a few seconds in order to pull Palermo's shirt over his head.

“Yeah, I think your right,” Palermo says, places a short, open-mouthed kiss on Berlin's lips before he gets up and pulls his pants down.

“I like where this is going.”

“I'm going to get use some coffee and the paper.”

“Naked?”

“If I want to walk around naked in _my house_ then I'll sure as hell do so. They have to live with it, don't they?”

Berlin might be rolling his eyes at that, but Palermo isn't quite sure since he already turned around and opened the door. And even thogh the Inspectora is more or less able to cover her surprise when he re-enters the kitchen, the horrified look on Sergio's face is definitely worth it.

-

Sergio and his girlfriend went out nearly every evening after the first horrible dinner and Palermo would be more than happy to stick to this routine, but now they insisted on sitting down together once more in order to talk. Palermo wants to refuse, but Berlin said yes before he got a chance to object, and now they are back in the dinning room, the atmosphere as awkward as it had been the first time. No five minutes in and Palermo has already gulped down the major part of his wine and is picking half-heartedly at the meal the _two lovebirds_ cooked, and unfortunately has to admit it tastes rather good.

“So,” Sergio finally starts, “We've done a lot of thinking and talking and we have decided that we'll give this a real chance.” Smiling he takes the Inspectora's hand who smiles back just as densely, “This means that Raquel will stay here, and her daughter and mother, as well. We took the required measures to bring them here safely without anyone being lead to us. They should arrive in the next few days.”

“This means we don't get any saying in this?” Palermo groans.

“No, you don't,” Sergio answers tight-lipped.

“Just thought we were living here together, you know. Thought this meant we're make those choices _together._ But, hey, you brought her here without telling us a _thing_ , so what was I thinking?”

Under the table Berlin puts his hand on his leg softly as if to calm him down, but it makes him only more angry.

“I'm telling you now.”

“Oh, great. And then what? You'll play happy little family until she decides to rat us all out? Maybe she's hoping the rest gets in contact with us so that it will be the whole gang she'll turn in. This will surely get her back into her old friends' favour.”

“ _She_ is sitting right here,” Sergio growls, looking just as furious as Palermo feels, and at the same time _she_ says with a roll of her eyes, “Really? This again?”

“Yeah, this again! I mean, I still don't get it. Why would you come back to him after everything he did to you? We all planned how he'll seduce you, how he'll _fuck_ you, in order to get more information and you on the wrong track. He knew it would destroy your life, and it _did_. And despite all of that you're here, so I don't think any of you can blame me for asking _why._ ”

Even though she tries to hide it he can see his words have hurt her, she takes a deep breath, though, and says in a perfectly neutral tone, “Like Sergio said, we have done a lot of talking and thinking, and I have forgiven him.”

“Tell me, Inspectora,” Palermo says, little grin on his lips, “Are you really this stupid, or is your self-hatred so great that you love a guy who did this horrible thing to you? Probably both, isn't it, your last husband beat you after all.”

He expects her to lash out, to shout, to call him names, but instead she begins to laugh, humourlessly, while shaking her head. It's actually Sergio who slams his fist onto the table, shaking all over, “That's _enough_! I tolerated your behaviour for Andrés' sake, but I don't care any more. If you're that unhappy about it then just go! No one forces you to stay, _I_ certainly don't want you to! You have more money you could ever spend so just go and get your own place to live in!" With that he gets up, leans over the table and hisses, “And if you say something like that to Raquel _ever again_ I'll kick you out myself.”

Before Palermo can shake off his confusion over this unexpected outburst Sergio is already leaving the room, followed by the Inspectora who refuses to spare him even one more look. 

“Well, that went as bad as I thought it would,” Berlin says pats Palermo's leg lightly were his hand still is resting.

“You knew about this?” Palermo asks accusingly, feeling betrayed.

“Sergio told me earlier this day. He wanted me to tell you, in fact, but I wisely made him do it himself.”

“So you set me up.”

“Setting you up is hardly the right term, I merely didn't want to fight a battle that isn't mine.”

“This isn't your battle, huh? So you're happy about her and her _family_ moving in with us?”

He takes Berlin's hand and pushes it away from his thigh. Berlin only smiles weakly at it and says, “I'm not looking forward to it, but my brother was right; we're not obligated to stay.”

“Oh, he would like that, wouldn't he? Getting rid of us just like that now that he doesn't need us any more. But I won't let myself be kicked out of my own home because it's convenient for Sergio and his girlfriend!”

“I remember you begging me to move out,” Berlin says with a raised eyebrow.

“And I remember you refusing to because you didn't want to leave your brother behind.”

“Things have changed.”

“They sure as hell have! Your inexperienced brother thinks a woman who wants to see us behind bars is in love with him!”

“I wonder, my dear, why you're that sure her only goal is it to get us arrested. I don't like to agree with her, but as she said on her first evening, we would be in prison already if that was what she had wanted.”

“Don't tell me you believe this ' _I love him despite ruining my life'_ -bullshit!”

“Is it possible you don't believe it because it's what you hoped and had to wait for, for years while they got it despite the worst start imaginable?” Berlin asks and even though there is a nonchalant tone in his voice Palermo feels his own breathing hitch, “You had to wait for me to show an romantic interested in you for how long? Over five years? And they spend two weeks together over the course of a year and are already sure they want to spend the rest of their lives with each other. This understandably makes you furious.” Berlin finishes with a light smirk on his face, and Palermo feels his cheeks blush in heat, if it's in anger or shame he doesn't know.

“Fuck you!” he growls, “Fuck you, and your brother and his stupid girlfriend! Fuck the whole lot of you!” He takes the opened bottle of wine and another still closed one and leaves the room as fast as Sergio did earlier to lock himself into his study.

He empties the first bottle in a few minutes and feels pleasantly buzzed, nearly enough to forget about the ball of white, hot rage that is moving in his stomach. When he opens the second one he wonders which of the brothers he hates more. They surely deserve each other. Maybe he should listen to them after all, pack his bags, and go to where-the-hell-ever he wants, starting anew without any of their bullshit.

When he nearly finished the second bottle he hears a knock on the door. “Go away!”

“I'm sorry, love, I didn't want to hurt your feelings, even though I see why my words did,” Berlin says and sounds truly remorseful, that fucker.

“Yeah, you _did_ want to! Leave me alone,” Palermo growls and goes to the door any way.

“Let me make up for it?”

“No.”

“Okay, I'll wait for you in bed.”

And Palermo doesn't want to go, he's got a more than comfortable couch in his study and access to a bathroom, there is no need to go into the bedroom, but after another hour or so he still does, angry with himself for giving in. After he brushed his teeth and changed he lies down on his side of the bed, ignoring Berlin's presences as much as possible and facing away from him.

“I'm glad you changed your mind,” Berlin whispers like they didn't both know he would, and slings his arm around Palermo's waist who feels himself lean into the touch unwillingly. “I truly wondered about it,” Berlin adds.

“Some things are better left to wonder about in quiet,” Palermo mumbles and with that they fall asleep.

-

He's preparing lunch the next day when the Inspectora walks into the kitchen. For the split of a second she looks like she wants to turn around and go back to where-ever she came from, but thinks better of it.

“Palermo,” she says with tight lips.

“Inspectora,” he greets and smiles especially bright. 

She goes to the fridge behind him and opens one door to go through the shelfs as if she's looking for something. “I got us some fresh fish from the market, I don't suppose you and Sergio would want to eat with us?” Palermo asks and chops off the head of said fish with more force than necessary. When he turns around again he sees her flinching out of the corner of his eye. Grinning he goes back to it.

“No, I don't think so,” she answers, sounding bored and is still audibly rummaging around in the fridge.

“Too bad. My fish is rather delicious, at least so I'm told. And do you know what the secret is? Not the cooking, not the preparation, but the way you cut it,” he chops off the head of another fish, “You can ruin a perfectly fine fish with a simple crooked cut. Fortunately, I'm more than skilled with knives. And not just on fish for that matter.”

Later he'll tell himself he just didn't see it coming since there was no reason for the Inspectora to react this way, that he was merely taken by surprise. This nice chat clearly didn't provoke any kind of physical reaction thus Palermo is definitely not to blame when he finds himself pressed head first on the counter, one arm trapped under his chest and the other on his back, pinned there by a painful grip. The knife he had in his hand only seconds ago lies right next to one of the detached fish-heads and he wonders how the hell it got there.

“Now listen to me, you little shit,” the Inspectora growls and leans down so that her lips are nearly grazing his ear. He tries to get away, but is fully immobilized. “We both know you're not able to hurt a fly, but I on the other hand am trained for that. So, if you'll keep up this act up and threaten my daughter or my mother even once, let alone say anything _mean_ to them, you'll wish I just shot you that day in the Mint. Do you understand me?”

When he doesn't answer she twists his arm further and with a pained gasped he says, “Yes, I understand you, fuck.”

“Good.” With a pat on his head she lets go of him and has walked out of the room before Palermo is even back on his feet. Instead of her he finds Berlin standing in the threshold, looking more than smug.

“Fuck you, how long have you been standing there,” Palermo says and shakes his hurting arms out.

“For long enough to know you had that coming. It was strangely hot, though.”

“I hate you.”

But Berlin only laughs at it.

-

The Inspectora's family arrives two days later, and Berlin asks him to be _nice_ since Sergio is nearly having a nervous breakdown any way and doesn't need the extra pressure of being scared of “the way you could be messing with them”. Palermo gets the nervousness, he really does, even though as a gay man the chances of meeting parents-in-law and step-children are usually significantly less high, and so he lets Berlin only work a little for it until he promises to act along. His intentions are pure and even if they weren't it would have changed at the latest when he comes home to the Inspectora sitting on a couch, crying, with a small girl clinging to her like a monkey. Seeing this feels weirdly private thus he only smiles apologetic and walks out again. And if he felt a little tug on his heart, well, he's not out of stone, is he.

For the next few days he doesn't see a lot of either of them and is more than glad about it since he doesn't remember the last time he spent time with a child in one room, let alone with an old woman. Of course, there was the awkward afternoon tea they shared in order to get introduced to each other. The grandma seemed to be more confused than anything, only smiled politely, and when Palermo told her that he and Berlin are a couple to provoke a reaction, she didn't even bet an eye. The girl seemed to be overstrained with the situation as well, ate her cake and didn't say more than two words. But maybe that's what little girls do, who is he to tell.

Best thing about this, next to not seeing the Inspectora all the time obviously, is that Sergio clearly suffers under the helplessness of suddenly being a father figure, and stays at home more often than not to give his girlfriend time to “reunite with her family”, all the while looking a funny mixture of lost and relieved.

“You think we should ask him to join us?” Berlin asks one day when they are about to leave for a day-trip to the other side of the island, and see Sergio sitting alone on the patio.

“What? No, absolutely not! He just stopped third-wheeling like yesterday, I don't want this to start yet again!”

“You guys are aware I hear every word you say?” Sergio asks and turns around in his seat to look at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Just stating the truth,” Palermo shrugs, and when Berlin gives him the 'be nice to my brother or you don't get sex tonight'-look he adds with a dramatic sigh, “But of course you can join us.”

“Thank you, Martín,” Sergio says and sounds more than a little sarcastic, which is _new_ , and then goes on with a stupidly heartfelt look in his eyes, “But Raquel took Paula shopping for items we can play with when we'll go to the beach later. They'll be back soon.”

A year ago, hell, even three weeks ago, Palermo would have never dreamed of Sergio talking that happy and _in love_ about someone without it sounding absolutely delusional, but here he is, looking forward to spend a day on the beach with a real woman who seems to have a real interest in him. So maybe he doesn't feel as lost as Palermo originally thought. 

-

Palermo finds himself alone in the living room with the kid two days later. He was reading a book in silence when she came in, flopped down on the other couch and turned on the TV. He debates on whether he should send her away, but they all agreed on sharing this room, and he has his own study after all, so he sticks with, “Well, hello.”

“Hi,” the girl says without taking her eyes off the screen.

Okay, this is definitely weird, and he _definitely_ has to talk with Sergio about teaching her some manners, something the Inspectora clearly missed on. He decides to do that later, though, and shifts his attention back to his book. 

“What is your name?” she asks all of the sudden when he nearly forgot about her being there. This time she is looking directly at him with piercing eyes.

“Palermo...” he says slowly, because he's more than certain he already told her.

“But Sergio calls you Martín.” Funnily it sounds accusing.

“And what does your mother call me?”

“I think she calls you 'the boyfriend'.”

Fair enough. “Well, my name _was_ Martín, it's Palermo now.”

“You can't change your name!”

“Why not?” he asks and places his book onto the small table next to him.

“Because,” the kid answers determined. He probably should have know better than to expect arguing skills from a... he actually has no clue how old the girl is, could be anywhere from five to twelve.

“Obviously you're wrong. I decided to change my name and then I did, easy as that.”

“But why did you do that?”

“You know about a woman taking her husbands name?” she nods, “I built a new life with another person as well, and it felt only right starting it with a new name. New me, new life, new everything.”

“So, 'Palermo' is your husbands name?”

He laughs to hide the fact that he's strangely flattered by a child thinking he's married to Berlin, “No, he changed his name, too. But our names and their meanings tie us together.”

“You are weird.”

“And you're one to talk,” Palermo grumbles barely audible.

“Does that mean I can change my name too?”

“Sure, it does.”

“Does it have to be a city name?”

“It doesn't _have to_ , but it's cooler,” Palermo says all serious and the girl only nods.

After a few seconds she blurs out, “I know what I'll-”

“Nope,” Palermo interrupts her, “That was far too easy. The name needs to be _perfect_ , you want to be called like it for the rest of your life, don't you?”

“I can change it again!”

“No, that would be just stupid.”

With a thoughtful look she turns her attention back to the TV, and Palermo picks his book up with a grin on his face.

-

Apparently this little exchange made the girl find a liking in him, at least she's standing in front of him in his study the next day, backpack in her hand. “Go to the beach with me?”

“No?” he answers confused and shakes his head.

“Please!”

“I can see the beach right from this window, it's like ten meters, you'll be able to go there alone.”

“But I'm not allowed to go alone.”

Taking her small frame and unknown age in it's probably a sensible idea. “Then go ask your mother.”

“She and Sergio are taking a nap.”

Yeah, sure. Gross. “Then go to your grandma.”

“She is taking a nap, too!” The girl says accusingly as if it's his fault.

Please, let at least the old woman be really napping. “Then you'll have to wait until they're awake again.”

“But _you_ could go with me. You can read on the beach!”

“Now listen, child. Your mother doesn't want you to go alone because she's afraid you go into the water and drown since you're not able to swim.”

“I can swim!” she interjects, but he ignores her.

“If I would go to the beach with you I will fall asleep or be too invested in my book, and I won't even realize that you're drowning. That would mean I'll follow you to heaven a few minutes later when your mother has found out I let her precious girl die.”

“So you're afraid of my mum,” the kid states with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Afraid enough to not go anywhere near the water with you. And now you'll go back to their room and tell them it's time to go to the beach.”

“They wanted to nap,” she says slowly, already sounding half convinced.

“They did enough napping for one day. Now go on.”

After another second of hesitation she's out of the room, and thinking better of it he shouts, “But knock first!”

-

“So, you're afraid of me?” the Inspectora asks later that day, same shit-eating grin on her face as her daughter had earlier. She once again walked into his cooking, but this time seemingly for the sole purpose of mocking him since she stays behind the counter.

“Traitor,” Palermo mouths to said girl hiding laughingly behind her mothers back, and says out loud, “It's more a healthy concern for my life.”

“If I'd only knew it was that easy when I first came here.”

Ignoring the remark he says, “I hope your nap wasn't disturbed earlier.”

“Don't worry,” she winks, “We just woke up.” Again, gross.

Mother and daughter leave then, but not before the girl sneaked two chocolate bars into her pocket, and Palermo's mind is already back to wandering around aimlessly while he's cutting the vegetables when Sergio enters the kitchen.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Palermo asks with a raised eyebrow, not remembering doing anything thank-worthy.

“That you're so civil lately. I-” Sergio clears his throat, “I understand you were concerned for your safety, but she means a lot to me. _Everything_. I'm grateful you don't try to push her away any more.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Palermo groans, not really sure what else to say.

“And you're lovely with Paula. It's a lot for her, being in a strange country, living together with all those adult men and not having any friends yet. We need to help her adjust to it as much as we can. She-”

“Yes, all right, _Professor_ , enough of your lecture for today. Go back to your wife and child and be a good daddy there.” This sounds somewhat wrong, but Sergio doesn't seem to mind, probably doesn't even get it, and with another bright smile he finally leaves the kitchen, as well.

Apparently, he doesn't deserve a quiet evening of cooking despite his recent good behaviour because no minute later the Inspectora's mother comes in, same content smile as most of the time on her lips. “Can I help you?” she asks.

Palermo learned earlier this week that the woman can be rather persistent, probably the side-effect of being the stereotypical housewife, so he only nods with a sigh. “Sure. I'll get us a bottle of wine, what do you think.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

At least she knows how to drink.

-

“So I heard you get along rather well with the little girl,” Berlin says later that night when they are lying in bed together.

Groaning Palermo wants to roll his head off of Berlin's chest, but the arm around his shoulder stops him from doing so. Instead he hears a low chuckle and feels a kiss being pressed into his hair. “Are you guys now gossiping about me?”

“I talked to my brother earlier, who is more than grateful about your change of heart.”

“It's not so much a change of heart but admitting defeat. Where is the point of trying to make you two realize you're making a big mistake if it only gets me kicked out, or killed in my sleep.”

“I would never let anyone kill you, and certainly not while you're lying in bed next to me.”

Palermo sighs and lets his fingers trail over Berlin's chest, plays aimlessly with one of his nipples, “They won't go away, will they?”

“Hardly. Interpol is now officially looking for our Inspectora, they don't have any clue she's here, though.”

“I've thought so.”

“I meant what I said a few weeks ago. We can move whenever and where-ever you want, we're no longer obligated to stay.”

“I know,” he sighs again and buries his face a bit more into Berlin's chest, “But I like it here. The house, the beach, I even like going into the city and talk to the people even though I don't understand a word. And don't forget about the beautiful wildlife. I mean I'm just... I'm afraid we won't be as happy as here somewhere else.”

“Naturally we will be. I don't remember being in any place with you and not being happy.”

Despite the sweetness of those words Palermo can't get rid of the bad feeling. It's not so much about the place itself, sure it _is_ astonishingly beautiful, but about the way Berlin and him grew closer than ever while being here. He was hopelessly in love for _years_ without getting even the smallest hint that his feelings could be returned one day, and when Berlin finally did after all they went into Sergio's little training camp soon after, where they pretended to not know each other. Thus, despite being together for close to ten years, they are only _together_ for the last few months here in Palawan, and leaving that behind could mean leaving their love behind, as well. “What about you? Do you want to stay?” is what he settles for in the end.

“Yes, I like it here as much as you do. Of course, I want to travel the world, show you all the places you haven't seen before, maybe even break into a few of them,” Palermo smiles at that, “For the moment, though, my mind is at ease, and I'm ready to enjoy it for as long as it last.”

It's an unusual thing for Berlin to say who has always been chasing a new heigh, a new challenge, but after printing two billion euros there is probably not too much left to achieve. Palermo remembers their plan to melt the gold in the Bank of Spain, and even though it still sound appealing he doesn't feel as ecstatic about it, at least at the moment. “I know what you mean,” he concludes, “So we'll stay for now? Your brother will be excited.”

“I'm afraid he truly will be.”

-

For the first year of their stay in Palawan the kitchen had been Palermo's realm, neither Berlin nor Sergio liked to cook and he rather does it alone. Sure, there were a few nights Berlin joined him and helped, or just sat there to keep him silent company while doing some sketches, and even though it was rather pleasant Palermo is glad they didn't make a habit out of it. The passion the brothers are lacking for cooking they have for eating, so it only makes hours spend with trying various exotic recipes that more worthwhile, and even Sergio's presence at the dinner table was sort of _nice._ However, those days are long gone, and Palermo is hardly able to spend an hour alone in the kitchen without anyone walking in.

So it's not that much of a surprise when he enters it to prepare a quick lunch and sees Paula sitting ar the counter, drawing a more than dull picture of an unrealistic tree. “Don't you have your own room?” Palermo asks and realizes that despite her living here for nearly two months now he doesn't have a clue whether she got a room, not to mention where it is.

“It's too loud,” she mumbles without looking up.

Despite not knowing where her room is he's fairly sure it's not _loud_ there. The main reason they bought this house was that it's so far away from any main street or tourist's hotspot that there is hardly any other source of noises than the wildlife, something that felt rather appealing after the months that were behind them. Of course, living in a private place was as sensible option, too, when you are one of the most wanted men. So somewhat curious he asks, “Why is it loud?”

The grip on her pencil gets so tight that her tiny knuckles turn an unhealthy shade of white. “They are fighting,” it's barely more than a whisper and he has to take a step closer in order to understand her.

For a second he wants to ask who is fighting, but taking the look on her face in it's more than obvious. And oh does Sergio deserve this, after all his talk of 'love' and 'family' and ignoring the potential threat his girlfriend posed for them he totally deserves this little throw back into reality.

Smirking Palermo walks over to the fridge and gathers the ingredients for the lunch, but he somehow _feels_ a judgemental gaze on his back. When he turns around, though, Paula is looking down on the paper, grip on the pencil still just as tight. He doesn't want to be sucked into this drama, he really, really doesn't, but he knows this posture. He's probably just projecting his own memories on the kid since she's the first one in years he came closer than a few meters to, and she surely needs anyone but the weird guy she's forced to live with to talk to. However, he remembers the charges her mother pressed against her ex-husband, so with a sigh a closes the fridge and goes around the counter to sit down in the chair next to Paula.

“What are they fighting about?”

“Don't know,” she says as quietly as before.

“Sometimes people do fight, you know, it doesn't mean... it doesn't mean they don't love each other.” She nods, and of course she _knows_ that, but understanding is another thing.

“Your parents fought a lot, didn't they?” Again she only nods and the hand with the pencil starts to shake. He feels the strange need to take her hand into his own, but they are not really close enough that they touch so he asks, “You heard and saw most of it too, yeah?”

This time she doesn't nod, but it's enough of an answer. For a moment it's like he's back in the small house he lived in when he was her age, pressing his hands over his ears to block out the noises to finally fall asleep. “My parents fought a lot too, and not like the other parents who were always nice to each other even though they were angry. Tried to hide whenever I heard them starting to shout, but sometimes I couldn't,” he sighs, not sure where he's going with it, how he's supposed to tell her that she isn't the only one who's feeling this.

“I saw... he... and mum...” She shakes her head again, bits her tongue visibly.

“You're allowed to talk about it, you know. It's okay, it's not a secret any more you have to keep to protect him.”

“I miss him,” she says suddenly and it sounds like a confession. It probably is.

“Of course, you do. He's your father and nothing will ever change that.” It feels like he read that in some cheesy drama and he might have, but what else is there to say? Paula seems to be close to tears now, so this probably wasn't helping at all. Fuck, he shouldn't have asked to begin with.

“But there is one thing I am sure of,” he announces and tries to make has voice as light-heartedly as possible, “Sergio will never _ever_ do what your father did. Believe me, I know this guy for years and he's one of the nicest, most harmless men I've ever met. By now he's probably crying and begging your mother to forgive him for whatever mistake he made.”

It's the truth even though he surely wouldn't have put it this way if anyone else had been listening, but Paula does look neither convinced nor any less tensed. “If anyone, and that includes Sergio, will ever be mean, or do a bad thing to your mother, or to you, then you'll come to me, okay? I won't let anything happen to either of you. You are not alone any more, and when your mum and Sergio are fighting you tell me. If you're scared of anything, you tell me. And if any one hurts either of you, you tell me. And then I'll make it stop.” She nods slowly, probably still as sceptical of his words as before, but who can blame her?

“Great,” he says and gets up, “Now I'll go and check what these two are fighting about.”

“Don't tell them I told you!” she says and looks somewhat relieved despite her words.

“I won't,” he promises and doesn't know what she's referring to exactly.

Paula was right, he realizes when he walks into the hallway leading to Sergio's bedroom, they really are quite loud. “This is not the point!” Sergio growls, sounding more frustrated than angry.

“This is _exactly_ the point!” Surprisingly she seems to be even more frustrated.

“They would already have found us if they had any _idea_ where we are, that-”

“I'm only saying we need to be prepared-”

“Well, hello, lovebirds,” Palermo says while opening the closed door, and the glares he gets as soon as he pokes his head through it are anything but welcoming.

“This is not the right time,” Sergio snaps.

“Oh, I think it's the perfect time.”

“It really isn't,” Sergio's girlfriend growls and is already turning her attention away from him.

“Believe me I don't want to be here either, but-”

“Then don't,” she says and looks ready to throw something at his face.

“I just wanted-”

“Can't we be alone for one minute? Is that really too much to-”

“Raquel!” he snaps and somehow it does the trick, “You might want to keep your voices down, because your daughter is sitting in the kitchen going all psycho.”

“She is what?”

“She heard you fighting and is rather upset, you probably should go talk to her.”

“I... she was supposed to be with my mother on the beach, why-”

“I don't know okay. I tried to calm her down, but I'm not an expert on children, so you should show her that you're alright and Sergio didn't-” he stops himself there before he blurs out something that he would regret later, and even though she looks somewhat bewildered she nods.

Taking a few fast steps she walks through the room and all of the sudden stops when she just passed him and turns around. “Thank you,” she says and takes off to the kitchen.

“Sure,” he answers so quietly she probably doesn't even hear it. With a sigh he shifts his attention to Sergio, “So what was that all about?”

“Nothing, we were only _arguing,_ really. Raquel... she is scared we will be caught when we stay here for too long, but there is no way anyone is going to find us.”

“Apart from someone deciding to send some postcards with the address on it,” Palermo reminds him.

“This is not the point!”

“Oh no, she said the same thing, didn't she? Even your girlfriend realizes what a stupid idea that was!” he grins.

“Leave it alone, will you,” Sergio says tiredly

“Never, my friend, never!” Palermo promises, “So, go on, apologise to your new daughter that you upset her, and then make up with her mum. I can't stand those bad vibes.” Surprised he realizes that he does mean it, but it surely got nothing to do with wanting Raquel and Sergio to be happy, he only got a liking in Paula. And he wants his kitchen back, goddammit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next will be Sergio, and the story then ends with Berlin's pov.  
> If you feel lonely, sad, are bored, want to talk about ships or what the hell ever message me on my [tumblr](https://staubfinger.tumblr.com) <3 these are weird times my friends


	3. Sergio and a very long day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm once again so excited about all the comments, kudos, and hits! I have major fun writing this, but seeing all of you having fun reading it, as well, makes it so much better!  
> You remember me saying this chapter will be shorter? Yeah, I was wrong, it is even longer. I actually don't know what has happened, and while writing this I realized I won't be able to finish this story with Andrés' pov, it just doesn't feel fitting. So, I'll write another chapter from Raquel's pov, since I need to go back to her and Sergio to finish this up.  
> And another little warning for this chapter: They are drinking while Paula is in the house, it's nothing they do on a regular basis, and it wasn't my intention to trivialise substance abuse.

Sergio had been a dreamy child, side-effect of being forced to stay in a hospital for so long one might say, and that didn't change when he grew up. He could spent hours with sitting in a comfortable chair, starring at a wall and getting lost in his own thoughts. Over the years he imagined nearly every possible outcome to his life, saw himself as an unhappy accountant, a successful author, or an unlucky prisoner. Of course, most of these thoughts centred around printing billions of euros one way or another, an obsession he got just like his dreamy nature early on in his life. But in all these wildly different fantasies he never saw himself as a father, not to mention as a stepfather. He hardly ever pursued romantic relationships, not that he didn't crave the intimacy, it felt mostly like too much of a struggle to go through the endless periods of dating just to find out you're not working together after all. So, despite Martín's ongoing remarks and the bewildered glances his brother tries to hide unsuccessfully, Sergio is more surprised than anyone about the role he finds himself in lately. And even though thinking of himself as a partner, as a parental figure, is sometimes overstraining he wakes up every morning with the certainty that he's right where he belongs to.

This morning is no difference. Opening his eyes when the first rays of sunshine hit his face through the small gaps in the closed blinds, he find himself face to face with this wonderful, beautiful woman, and for a moment he thanks whatever being made the miracle, that brought them together despite everything, happen.

“You're staring,” Raquel mumbles, eyes still closed.

“I just thought about how lucky I am that you came for me.”

“Oh, stop being that cheesy before I'm really awake,” and even though her words sound nearly harsh he can see the smile on her lips.

“It's not cheesy, it's the truth.”

“Well,” she sighs heavily, smile never leaving her face, “I think I have a confession to make. I'm here for the money.”

“Really?” he muses.

“Of course, hundreds of millions of euros... I mean, who could blame me?” She rolls over to lie down on his chest, her face now mere inches from his, eyes wide open and sparkling.

“I heard people got themselves involved in even more stupid affairs for a chance to wealth.” One of his hands strokes gently over her back, enjoying the feeling of naked skin under his fingers.

“Hard to believe,” she grins and presses a small kiss to his shoulder.

“Some might even say they didn't do it for the money at all, but for more idealistic reasons.”

“Naturally,” she nods, “Being able to afford a mansion at a private beach is just an unwanted side effect.”

“Maybe not _unwanted,_ ” he admits, “But there certainly are even better side effects.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he says and rolls them over which makes Raquel laugh in surprise, “Two months ago this beautiful woman stood in front of me, and even though I hoped this day would come I never believed it would.” He feels his smile sink and adds with a quiet voice, “I did some horrible things to her, you know. No one would have blamed her if she'd stayed away, but she didn't, and every day I am glad about it.”

She puts a hand into his hair and pulls him in for a kiss. It's slow, her lips moving nearly lazily against his, and Sergio feels an intensive prickle in his stomach like he always does when she's that close to him. It's weird, he thought it would end after he got used to her presences, but despite spending all those months together he still feels as excited as he did the first time they kissed, and he tried to tell himself he only did it for his plan.

“She wasn't stupid at all,” she whispers into his mouth.

-

Like every day they're eating breakfast together in the dinning-room and it might have been an ordinary meal if Paula wouldn't have asked, “So when are we going home?”

It's a fair question, Raquel and him both had wondered about when it would come up and they had planned to talk to Paula soon, but not this way, not _now_. He looks at Raquel who seems to be just as surprised as him and clears her throat before asking, “You don't like it here any more?”

“I'm bored, I want to see my friends and school has started again,” Paula says nearly accusingly.

Yesterday she had spent the afternoon on the beach with Martín who taught her to play volleyball and she seemed to be carefree and happy when she told them all about it over dinner. Sergio wonders what changed in those few hours, but realizes this is probably something Raquel should handle. To be honest, he's glad he isn't the one being looked at with such piercing eyes.

“Yes, that's right, but I thought we could stay longer, just all of us together,” Raquel answers and it sounds unconvincing even to his own ears.

“But you always said that school is important.”

“Yes, it is, but I...” Raquel sighs, “Sergio and me both have work to do here in Palawan and we can't go back to Spain for now.”

“But you never go to work. You're always here, not like before,” Paula says confused.

“I can do a lot of it on my computer, I just have to go to the city now and then.”

“And what about my school? My teachers will be angry when I don't do my homework!”

“I talked to them, and we got it all figured out, no one will be angry. You're just taking off for a little while longer.”

“I don't want to,” Paula states, “I want to see my friends again.”

“I know sweetie, but maybe you'll find new friends here,” Raquel says with a soft smile that disappears when Paula's face slowly turns red. “I don't want _new_ friends! I want to go home!”

“I understand you want to go home, but I have to finish my work!” Raquel snaps and immediately takes a deep breath, puts the smile back on her face and says in a nearly happy tone, “And the great thing about this is that I don't have to be away like I had to when we were back home. We can go to the beach every day, and to the zoo, and sleep in just like we want to, and I'm not being called in any more. No one is telling us what to do. I know you miss your friends and I'm sure they miss you too. However, we can't go back for now, and in the meantime you could write them some postcards, tell them about our life here, what to you think?”

“Okay,” Paula nods slowly, “I could do that. _For now_.”

“Great,” Raquel says and Sergio can see the relief in her eyes, “We'll go to the city and get some.”

“Can we go now?”

“I still have some work to do, but grandma will go with you,” Raquel looks at her mother pleadingly who didn't seem to follow the conversation until now.

“Sure,” she nods and turns to Paula, “Go get ready and then we'll leave.”

Paula more or less runs out of the room and Sergio sees Raquel sink into herself. “Thank you,” she tells her mother.

Mariví takes another sip of her tea, before getting up and rounding the table to plant a kiss on Raquel's cheek. “You have to tell her.”

“I know,” Raquel whispers and when Mariví left as well she buries her face in her hands, “Shit.”

Sergio who thought it went quite well until now, places his hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe some of the tension away, while not finding the right words to comfort her.

“She needs to go back to school,” Raquel says, voice muffled through the hands.

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Fuck,” she growls, pushes her hair back, straightens up and turns to Sergio, “We should have told her sooner. I wanted to protect her and now she's even more confused. How am I supposed to explain to her we're never going back?”

He really doesn't know, but this is probably not what she wants to hear right now, so he takes on of her hands into his and promises, “We'll find a way. And for now I'm looking into tutors that will be suitable for her.”

“Tutors? No. She doesn't need to go back to school for the classes. She has enough time to learn whatever she needs to, but we can't keep her away from other children any longer,” with a small laugh Raquel adds, “Paula has always been a people-person, never wanted to play alone. She would always go to some friend after school or they'd come to us. I was away all the time and I thought this here was a way to compensate for it, but a eight-year-old doesn't need her mum like a toddler does. And she isn't a toddler any more, is she?”

He nods in understanding while he understands close to nothing, but how should he? When he had been Paula's age he had not only lacked a mother but friends as well. “I just thought you wouldn't want to send her to a school since it could be a potential risk? Which I promises you it won't be, your papers and background-stories don't give any reason for questioning, and even if they would, they won't find anything.”

“Yes, that's why I started to look into some of the International schools. One isn't too far away and I could take her there everyday. They have a variety of extracurricular activities, I think she'd like that.”

“That sounds nice.”

“You think so? I thought it would be too hard for her to go a local school, and even though she only had English lessons for a few years she'll probably learn it easier than Filipino with a little extra help, and most of the other children aren't native speaker either, so-” with every word she gets faster and seemingly more nervous thus he takes her face into his hands and smiles reassuringly, “It really sounds wonderful and I'm sure Paula will like it there.”

“You do?”

“Yes. We'll make an appointment to settle the details and if it doesn't feel right for you or Paula we'll find a more suitable school.”

Sighing Raquel places her forehead against his', “Okay, I'm going to call them right away, the sooner she goes back to school and has some kind of normality the better. It will help her feeling more at home here, for sure. I thought she did, you know. How could I miss this? Yesterday everything had been fine and she seemed to be happy about not having to go to school.” Suddenly she leans back, eyes wide and mouth pressed into a thin line, “It nearly feels like _someone_ put these ideas into her head.”

-

Angrily Sergio storms to Martín's study which he finds empty. It's not too surprising since he always had a habit of staying up late and sleeping in, so he walks to the bedroom, sure he'll find Martín in his bed. When he opens the door to walk right into the room he does, but with the unforeseen difference that Martín is not asleep at all. And neither is Andrés.

“Oh my god,” Sergio blurs out embarrassingly and turns around to look into the empty hallway and not at what he just had seen on that bed.

“What the fuck, Sergio!” Martín growls breathlessly.

“Did you ever heared about a little thing called 'knocking before you enter'?” Andrés hisses.

“Why are you even awake!” Sergio groans and tries to forget about what he just had witnessed.

“Why are you walking into our room when you think we are still asleep! Is this some kind of kink? How often do you do that? Oh please, don't tell me you're doing that regularly!” Martín sounds as horrified as Sergio feels by even thinking about that.

“Of course not! But-”

“Then why are you here?!”

“Because you spent a day with Paula and all of the sudden she is unhappy here and wants to go back to Spain! What did you tell her? Is this another plan to get rid of Raquel? You're using her daughter to-”

“Oh fuck you, you complacent asshole!”

Ignoring his instincts Sergio turns around again since it starts to feel a little strange to shout at a wall. It's a mistake, of course. Martín seemed to have had similar thoughts, at least he's standing in the middle of the room, pointing fingers at Sergio, and unfortunately has forgotten about putting underwear on. Or anything for that matter. “Would you mind covering yourself?” Sergio groans and tries to look anywhere but at Martín's middle.

“Yes, I would! You're storming in here with these ridiculous accusations and now that's _my_ fault as well?”

“I assume I'm no longer needed here,” Andrés sighs heavily and gets out of the bed. Just like Martín he doesn't bother with clothing.

“So what did you tell her?” Sergio asks, trying to sound more non-judgemental while focusing on the spot right behind Martín's face to not look at either of the naked men.

“I'll finish in the shower,” Andrés announces and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door with a loud _bang_ behind himself.

Seemingly ignoring this, which is surprising since Sergio is still fighting with the pictures, Martín says, “I didn't tell her anything. She asked me all of the sudden why she doesn't have to go to school, and when I said she had to go to her mother with that she said she didn't want to.”

“Why would she say that?” Sergio asks confused. He only knows Paula for two months, but from the very beginning it was more than clear how strong and honest Raquel's relationship to her daughter is, so being afraid of asking or telling her mother something seems to be rather unlikely. 

“I don't know, okay,” Martín growls frustrated, “She's _your_ step-daughter, _I_ don't want to deal with all this heavy shit. But maybe it's time you tell her the truth. She is not stupid, she realizes something is wrong at the same time she wants to ignore it to make her mother happy.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You are really dense, aren't you? She is five so she can't put these thoughts into words-”

“She is eight,” Sergio interrupts, but Martín only waves his hand, “Yeah, whatever, she's practically a _baby._ But think back to being her age. You weren't stupid either, were you, wonder-kid? Staying on a vacation for months without any annoying school stuff? Nice, but a little bit strange, isn't it? But she is having fun and her mother is clearly happy, taking into account that you got her fired she's probably happier than she has been for the past year, so of course she didn't voice any of her questions.”

“Then why did she now?” Sergio asks, feeling himself getting less angry by the minute.

“I told her to. Well, actually I made her promise to ask you because she _deservers_ the truth. And this is not about getting rid of Raquel or anything like that, she's just a nice kid and she shouldn't be lied to.”

There he is, standing naked from head to toe in the middle of his bedroom, and is advocating on the behalf of a child. Sergio is rather good at imagining the most unlikely events, but he never would have dreamed of Martín saying something even close to that. “We can hardly tell her that she won't go back to Spain because her mother will be arrested on the spot and that I am the reason for that.”

“Why not?” Martín shrugs and looks truly puzzled.

“Because she'll hate me,” Sergio admits ruefully.

Unexpectedly Martín laughs at that, “I have to say this is rather sweet, but have a little faith in her. Like I said, she sees how happy you make her mother that is worth a lot, believe me.” With a step forward he pets Sergio shoulder and smiles encouragingly. “But now I'll join Berlin under the shower and finish what I have started, if you don't mind.” And before Sergio can process what he just had heard Martín has already disappeared behind the bathroom door. 

Despite all the questions Sergio still has he rather runs to his own room before he'll be witness to another _intimate_ moment that will haunt him in his nightmares.

-

Sergio returns to his study, feeling the need to think about what Martín has told him. He falls down onto the small couch, head propped up by a pillow, and stares at the celling. Raquel and him had debated over telling Paula the whole truth, of course they did, but she had never wanted to, argued that it would only confuse her further, and Sergio agreed with her. And how couldn't he? He doesn't _know_ Paula, despite spending the majority of the last two months with her and establishing a friendly relationship. And even if they were closer, Raquel is still her mother and from the very moment they had decided they'll stay together he swore to himself he would follow Raquel's lead and support her every way he could. When he's honest with himself it's not just a purely selfless decision, like he had confessed to Martín, he's afraid Paula will hate him when she knows what he did to her mother. And no one could blame her for that, despite what Martín had said.

It's a weird feeling to have Martín enlightening him on all these things, but he's not only surprised because he didn't realize how unhappy Paula is, but because he didn't see how close those two had become either. _He's jealous._ The realization is far less unexpected than the others, but it's still uncomfortable to admit it to himself. He's the step-father so it should be him Paula comes to talk to, shouldn't it? It only makes matters worse that it's _Martín_ of all people Paula preferes over him.

It's been over a year of sharing a home, another five months when you take the time in Toledo into account, and Sergio still isn't used to living with Martín. It's not that he dislikes the other man per se, it's his unpredictability that makes him nervous. Well, Martín had been rather calm, even _predictable,_ since him and Andrés became a couple, this however is strange in itself. Naturally, Sergio knows his brother his whole life, and even if they hadn't been close through most of it, Andrés opinion on homosexuality had been more than clear, one might even argue he was quite homophobic. That, and the fact he had told Sergio that there is nothing but friendship between himself and Martín all over again, makes him somewhat wary over the nature of their relationship. Certainly, he doesn't think either forces the other into something, but he still isn't able to grasp the metaphorically backflip Andrés did regarding his sexuality and feelings for Martín. Taking Andrés previous short-lived marriages into account no one could blame Sergio for expecting this to end rather sooner than later, and every day he expects a big fight or one of them leaving the other. Not that he wishes for it, he more or less learned to live with Martín's sometimes annoying presence, and he's ready to ignore his bad feelings as long as his brother is happy. 

“There you are,” Raquel's voice brings him back to the here and now, and he feels his body flinch involuntarily in surprise.

“Sorry, I lost track of time. How late is it?”

“Just past noon.” Smiling she comes over and sits down on the small part of the couch he isn't lying on.

“Come here,” he mumbles and places his hands on her waist, feeling the need to have her closer. Immediately, she places her head on his shoulder, and lies down more or less on top of him in order to not fall off the couch. 

“So, how did the conversation with Palermo go? I just ran into him in the kitchen and he looked kinda _shy_.”

“He said Paula had asked him what she asked us this morning, and he then told her to go to us with it,” Sergio sighs.

“I thought so.”

“You did?” he asks surprised and finds Raquel smiling sadly at him.

“Yes, I've waited for this more or less, I think, even though I didn't want it to happen. It was only a matter of time until she realized something was off.”

“Martín said that, as well,” cautiously he adds, “He also thinks we should tell her the truth why you're not going back home.”

Raquel groans frustrated and buries her face into his shoulder, “God, I know I _should_ tell her the truth, but how do you explain to your child your a wanted fugitive?”

“It's not your fault, is it?” Sergio says and starts to rub his hand over her back, “But your reckless boyfriend's who seduced you to live the life of a criminal.”

“Yes, that sounds so much better,” she laughs and places a kiss on his neck, “But honestly, what are we supposed to do now?”

“I don't know. I think, I hoped you had a solution. Maybe she'll forget about all of this when her mind is occupied with the new school like you said earlier,” he mumbles, sounding less convinced than he wanted to.

“Yes, maybe,” Raquel agrees with the same conviction.

-

Mariví and Paula are back home an hour later, and Raquel and him still don't know how they'll go on from here. In the end Sergio suggests trying to take Paula's mind off everything at least for tonight, and they'll settle for that. It's a weak attempt to avoid the inevitable, but Sergio always has found a way to make the impossible happen, surely he will do it this time as well.

On his way to Paula's room he's undeniably nervous, though, reconsidering whether it was such a good idea to go by himself to talk to her, but he can't expect to have a better relationship with her if he isn't willing to put some afford into it, can he? So he takes a deep breath before knocking on her door and being allowed to enter.

Paula is sitting at her desk, already writing one of the just bought postcards that will never reach their destination. “Hello,” Sergio says and comes closer. Well, that wasn't the smooth start he had hoped for.

“Hi,” she answers without looking up from her writing.

“So, you found some nice postcards,” Sergio states the obvious and Paula only nods. He doesn't blame her.

“Look,” he says and squats down to be on an eye-level with her, “You're mothrr and I have thought and talked a lot about what you've said earlier, and we're really sorry you're so unhappy here. We never wanted that.”

“I'm not unhappy,” Paula mumbles before he can go on, and puts her pencil down to look directly into his eyes.

“But you're missing your friends?” She nods, “Yes, I understand that. I have some very dear friends I'm not able to see right now, either, and there is no day I don't miss them. I never wanted you to feel that way, but I'm still very glad you, and your mother, and grandmother came here. I enjoy every minute I spend with you and I just want you...” he clears his throat, “I want nothing more than you to be as happy as I am right not.”

Paula looks at him with wide open eyes, eyes that are so similar to her mothers, and says, “Being on the beach all day is boring.”

“Yes, I know, and your mother is looking for a way to change that very soon. For tonight I thought we could do something fun, though,” when Paula doesn't say anything else he continues, “When I had been your age I loved to play board games, I thought we could do that. All of us together. I've even got Monopoly.”

Not looking too convinced Paula says slowly, “Mum got me a Wii last week, we could play with that.”

He remembers it to be some kind of console game and nods, “Of course, we can play that too.”

“Okay,” Paula smiles, “And Palermo has to play with us, too.”

“He sure will,” Sergio answers and tries to ignore the pang of jealousy in his stomach by the mentioning of this name

“And Berlin!”

“That will be harder, but I'll do my best.”

“We'll play Just Dance, and Just Sing and Mario Kart!” Paula exclaims and he only nods, not quite sure what the games besides the Mario-one are, but the names are rather unsettling.

“Grandma and me brought enough postcards, you know, you could write some to your friends, as well,” she suddenly offers with a serious look on her face.

“Yes, that would be nice,” he answers even though it would be probably too much of a risk to send them.

When she immediately hands him some of the cards he gets his own chair, sits down next to her, and writes a card to the three small groups of people that are scattered all over the globe, and he hasn't heard a word from in over a year. He tells each of them how happy he is, that he hopes they are all well, and that he'll be forever grateful for what they did for him. He signs every card with 'el Professor' and maybe he'll send them after all.

-

Convincing his brother to play video games... Maybe printing all that money hadn't been the most improbable thing he had done. After walking through the house for a few minutes he finds him on the main patio, squinting at an easel, with Mariví and Martín chatting happily at a small table, glasses of spritzer standing in front each. “It's not quite right,” he mumbles to himself, and when Sergio take a step closer he sees a rather vivid picture of the ocean.

“Looks perfect to me,” he states, but Andrés only shakes his head, “No, something is missing.”

For another minute or so he stares at realistic drawing of the beach and sea and then shrugs when he doesn't find any clue why Andrés could possibly not be satisfied with it. He shifts his attention over to Mariví and Martín who are just giggling about something and clears his throat, “Well, I wanted to talk to all of you so it's-”

“Not now,” Martín interrupts with the raise of his hand, “I was just telling this lovely lady about how Berlin finally realized he loved me. ”

“Didn't he tell her that already?” Sergio whispers to his brother, remembering he heard snippets of a similar conversation.

“Not just once,” Andrés grumbles without taking his eyes of the picture.

Normally, Sergio would have scolded over Martín's tactlessness to use the forgetfulness of an elderly woman for his personal enjoyment, but he wonders about that story for a long time now thus he keeps reluctantly silent.

“So, you see, I was devastated, all those years of hoping and then he was just gone. I felt like I would never be happy again, that everything from now on was pointless. And I don't even remember what I did the following months, they felt like an eternity and like a blink of an eye all at once.”

“You poor thing,” Mariví says sympathetically and pets Martín's shoulder.

“I was living back in my old apartment, one we had shared on various points through the years, and I tried to get rid of everything that reminded me of him, but what would have been left then? Blank walls? In the end I decided to look into something new, something far away,” he laughs humourlessly, “One might say I had finally given up, and then there he was, standing in front of my door. I sent him away, or at least I would have if he'd let me say anything. He told me he was sorry, that he made a mistake by leaving me behind since there was something _missing_ in his life without me in it. And I probably should not have forgiven him that easily after all those months he refused to even acknowledge my existence, but I couldn't even imaging living another second without him.” Martín says with a small, nearly sad smile on his face and for a second he looks into Andrés' direction who is hid from his sighting field behind his easel. "And now that I have him I don't know how I could ever go without it."

“Oh dear, when we love someone, _really love them_ , we forgive everything, don't we? For better or worse.” Mariví seems to be rather touched by the story as she places her hand once again on Martín's shoulder.

“For better or worse,” he agrees and clinks their glasses together.

While Sergio has to admit the story is rather heart-warming it doesn't sound like his brother at all. He wants to tell him so, but as he turns to his side once again he finds Andrés with traitorously wet eyes so he he decided to rather say nothing. And that makes it even weirder since Sergio had never seen him that emotional, not even when one of his wives had left him again. Maybe, he realizes with something that isn't a _bad_ feeling in his stomach, but definitely not a good one either, he won't get rid off Martín as soon as he thought he would.

“Like I said,” Sergio continues after another clearing of his throat and as if he didn't even hear the story, “I wanted to ask you to do me a favor. We have already talked about Paula not feeling too good at the moment, and while Raquel and I are looking into a permanent solution we want to cheer her up for now. And Paula especially asked for you to be part of it.”

“Sure,” Martín shrugs, “Mark us down.”

“Very well,” Sergio grins, “We'll meet in the living room by eight.”

Before anyone can ask him what exactly Paula has in mind he disappears back into the house. Wasn't that hard after all, was it.

-

Sergio takes Raquel, Paula and Mariví to their favourite restaurant for dinner and it definitely got nothing to do with him being scared of running into Andrés, who would surely ask him what he has in mind for the evening. Sergio had never been any good in lying to his brother, and he had already told a beaming Paula that everyone would be there so there is no way he's taking any risks. Dining at a restaurant is therefore merely a strategically hideout and not a cowardly escape.

When they get back Raquel and Paula set the video console up while it's his and Mariví job to take care of the drinks and snacks. Well, apparently it's _his_ job since Mariví never comes back from going into the living room with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“This is going to be so awkward,” Raquel groans lowly and imitates her mother by filling a glass with red wine and falling down onto the big L-shaped couch in the middle of the room.

“It certainly will be nice,” Sergio tries to reassure her.

Of course, it isn't. When Andrés and Martín enter the living room point eight Andrés stops right in his tracks, “Where are the board games?”

“Why do you want to play board games all the time?” Paula asks bewildered.

“Because good board games are a perfect instrument for manipulating children into learning new skills while they have fun and the grown ups are not dying ofbboredom. Besides, it's tradition for families to play them, isn't it?”

“We gonna play with my new Wii! Sergio and me wanted to,” Paula announces excitedly and while the mention makes him rather happy on the one hand, he wants to hide behind the sofa when he sees his brother's death glare on the other.

“What is a _Wii_ supposed to be?”

“How can you not know what a Wii is?”

“Well, _young child,_ I will tell you something about-”

“Oh, no, you won't,” Martín interrupts him and takes his arm to pull him over to the couch, “None of us wants to listen to your lectures, now sit and enjoy the future.” With that Martín slumps down next to Sergio, leans forward to fill two glasses with wine, and just as he holds one up for Andrés to take it, he sits down, sour look still on his face.

“It's really easy,” Paula explains while getting up and putting a CD into the Wii, “You just have to hold the remote in your hand and move like the figure on the TV.”

“And what is the point of this?” Andrés asks with a raised eyebrow.

“To dance!”

“To score points and win,” Raquel adds.

“But how exactly is the TV supposed to rate my dancing skills? I'm certainly not dancing _with_ it.”

“Now, you're embarrassing, love,” Martín sighs while petting his cheek, and when the look in Andrés' eyes gets even more annoyed he laughs and places a small kiss to the corner of his lips. Sergio decides to better keep his mouth shut about his own confusion.

“I'll show you, it's like totally easy.” Paula smiles and loud pop music starts to play over the speakers. “Come on mum, you have to dance with me.”

“Alright,” Raquel says with a mischievous grin and empties her glass, “But I have to warn you guys, I'm quite good at this, so don't be jealous.”

“Ha!” Martín sneers, “I'm totally gonna beat you, I was the king of the arcade dance machine!”

“This isn't something you should be proud of,” Andrés grumbles.

The game turns out to be more complex than Sergio had feared; while the mechanics are rather self-explanatory, like Paula had already said, are the required steps more than confusing. As the song starts anew Sergio relaxes somewhat, though, since the second time around the moves don't look too complicated any more, and he just enjoys watching those two. Raquel had been right, she's rather good at this.

When the song finishes and he's sure he will be able to perform the dance okay-is after another round or two, they suddenly look for another one. “How many are there?” he asks in shock as yet another title flickers over the screen.

“Thirty-three,” Paula says.

“Thirty-three?” Sergio repeats with wide eyes.

“On this CD.”

“On this... how many are there?!”

“We have five.”

“Please don't tell me we have to get through all of them?” Andrés asks no one in particular and throws his hands into the air.

“No, of course not, we want to play Just Sing as well,” Paula smiles oblivious to Sergio and Andrés being _horrified_. 

“That one is great as well,” Raquel smiles and goes back to looking for another song.

Suddenly Sergio has a full glass of wine in his viewing field, “Here, drink,” Martín offers, and he takes it gladly.

For the next thirty minutes or so they are somewhat safe, though, Raquel and Paula dance to the most annoying songs, which Sergio only knows half of, and now and then even Mariví joins them. Surprisingly, she is nearly moving as gracefully, and Sergio wonders if those three had spent the majority of their free-time with this game. He drinks his wine faster than he normally would, hoping it will help him to not make a total fool out of himself when it's inevitably his turn. That Martín seems to be determined to keep the glasses full at all time doesn't help either, since Sergio hadn't even realized how much he had to drink until Raquel falls down next to him on the couch and looks somewhat blurry.

“I have to go back to doing more sport,” she groans and wipes the sweat from her forehead, “We're a only eating and lying in the sun and that has top stop. My body hasn't been that unfit since forever.”

“Don't you two engage in partner workouts? Poor thing,” Martín says and wiggles his eyebrows.

“You two could dance!” Paula suggest and falls down between her mother and Sergio, “There are a few couple dances.”

“This is not exactly-” Martín begins, but Raquel shushes him by throwing a CD at him, “Go put that in and show me how good you actually are at this.”

Grinning he gets up but ignores the CD that had fallen to the floor, “Oh no, I have already found the _perfect_ song! Come on, Sergio, you have to dance with me!”

“What? No, absolutely not!” Sergio says who is nervous enough without the smirk on Martín's face.

“Come on, don't be so boring, _Professor._ I thought this had been your idea.”

“Yes, Sergio, you have to dance, too,” Paula giggles.

They are all just doing it to make Paula happy, aren't they? So with a groan and another sip of his wine Sergio gets up and joins Martín on the carpet in front of the TV. He gets a remote handed and shakes his arms and legs out to get somewhat more relaxed. It doesn't really work. Next to him Martín shuffles through the songs until he finds what he had been looking for. “Oh no! Definitely not!”

“Oh yes!” Martín grins.

“I'm not dancing to 'Cotton Eye Joe', forget it!”

“Buh!”

“Yeah, buh!” Raquel agrees and as Sergio turns around to her she smiles brightly and shrugs.

“Okay, okay, but just _once_!”

The song is as horrible as he has remembered it and the steps are not only confusing but degrading. Sergio moves his arms as fast as he can but is still not able to keep up with the woman on the TV.

“You have to move your legs!” Paula laughs.

“I don't score points by moving my legs,” Sergio groans.

“Yeah, but it looks stupid like that,” Martín says and when Sergio takes his eyes of the screen he sees Martín is moving arms _and_ legs but in the absolutely wrong way.

“That is not even the dance,” he complains.

“Mine is cooler.”

Sergio wouldn't agree necessarily, but in the end Martín still scores higher than him. It's even more frustrating than he thought it would be. “Never again,” he mumbles and sits back down next to Raquel while Paula gets up to put the other CD in.

“For your first time it was really good,” Raquel smiles, and it's so obviously a lie that he only shakes his head. She laughs then and places a kiss on his lips which definitely helps more.

“Berlin it's your turn!” Martín beams after Paula changed the game and a new song starts to play.

“Never,” Andrés says sternly and holds his glass a littler tighter than usual.

“Pretty please? Even your brother danced!”

“Whatever you're doing in this so called ' _game_ ' is everything _but_ dancing. And don't let me get started on the ' _music'_.”

No minute later Andrés still gets up, the argument “but it's our song” got him convinced after all. The song turns out to be 'Can't take my eyes off you' and while the version is considerably worse than the original, Andrés only says so five times as well, it's still rather sweet. “They are really sweet together,” Raquel voices his thoughts with a whisper and seems to be just as confused.

Mariví retries to her room soon after which isn't too unexpected since she goes to bed early most nights, and Paula decides to switch games once again, this time though it's the dreaded singing one. Surprisingly, Andrés finds a few songs that aren't “a total insult to my ears” and performs them with such intensity and determination that he refuses to give anyone else the microphone, so in the end it's either him singing alone, or him nearly shouting whenever someone tries sings with him. When Paula gives up frustrated after one song Raquel takes the other mic, and just gets louder every time Andrés does until they are practically screaming at each other and Sergio feels weirdly reminded of a heavy metal concert. After two rounds of that Paula is so bored and frustrated that she wants to go back to her room, and when Raquel tells her it's time to go to bed anyway she doesn't even protest that much.

After the two have disappeared Andrés falls down onto the couch with a smirk on his face and Sergio can't shake the feeling that this screaming match had been deliberate. “What a nice game,” he states and it only sounds somewhat sarcastic.

“It sure was,” Sergio nods.

“Even though you tricked us into it.”

“I hardly _tricked_ you, you never asked what we were going to do.”

“I won't do such a mistake next time.”

 _Next time,_ Andrés says in a casual way like it's a given they'll repeat this. And he wouldn't mind it, Sergio realizes, despite the embarrassing games they had played. He can virtually see it; his old and his new family enjoying the occasional evening together without all the drama and fighting that took place in the beginning. 

“Oh, stop grinning that way,” Martín groans and refills their glasses once again, “I know _exactly_ what you've got on your mind, and we won't do a dance party for children again. I'll rather go to an orphanage and kidnap some of them so that Paula has finally some friends her own age.”

“What you talking about is called _'adoption'_ and I don't think Sergio here would be up to becoming an uncle just yet, he's already unable to cope with the current situation” Andrés says.

“Oh, shut it you two,” Sergio growls and takes another big gulp of his wine. He certainly isn't 'unable to cope' with the situation, he's merely cautious in order to do nothing wrong. Something anyone in their right mind would be. Needless to say there is no point on discussing such things with Andrés and Martín who are downright insensitive on their good days.

The conversation shifts from there to more pleasant topics and Sergio isn't aware of how much time had passed until Raquel suddenly comes back into the room, looking as tired as she usually does when she read Paula to sleep. With a look to the men sitting on the couch she stops in her tracks and turns around to leave. For a moment Sergio wants to follow her, confused and scared he did something that hurt her, but she's right back, bottle of a clear liquid and small glasses in her hands.

“Time for shots,” she announces, places everything on the table and fills the glasses with what seems to be tequila.

“Inspectora!” Martín exclaims and places a hand dramatically on his heart, “You're having the best ideas!”

Feeling already morr drunk than in a long time Sergio isn't too sure whether this is a good idea, but everyone seems to be so relaxed and content that he shrugs internally and takes the shot Raquel hands to him. It burns, doesn't taste as horrible as he remembered it, tough, and right after he places the empty glass unto the table Martín laughs, “You can't stand on one leg,” and refills them once again.

Apparently, you need three legs to stand on since Martín repeats that once more, and Sergio realizes the room has started to swirl somewhat when Raquel snuggles up to him.

“Well, who would have thought we all share a drink together one day? And that without any of us pointing a gun,” Andrés muses.

“Certainly not me,” Raquel laughs, “Still can't believe I'm living together with the creepy assholes I met in that godforsaken Mint. I have to be crazy.”

“Not crazier than the rest of us,” Martín shrugs, “I mean, I live together with the Inspectora who was out to put my ass behind bars for the rest of my life.”

“And what a waste it would have been,” Andrés sighs.

“You're the best,” Martín grins and throws an arm around Andrés' shoulders, “But honestly, Raquel, I appreciate you veeery much for not setting us up and by calling your old friends, I'm like really don't want to prison.”

“I have to admit, I wanted to do nothing more than to call them when I realized what he,” she pokes her finger into Sergio's chest, “Got me into with those postcards, but I couldn't lose his stupidly handsome face once again.”

“I thought it's my money you're after?” Sergio asks with a crooked smile and resits the urge to say that he did not _trick_ her into anything, at least not after she found out the truth. However, they've had this conversation often enough by now, and despite feeling guilty all the same he _knows_ she doesn't mean it.

“Of course, how could I have forgotten about that?” she grins and places a loud kiss onto his neck.

“That's not the only thing you have forgotten about. Your glass is empty and that's just unacceptable!” Martín says accusingly and refills not only her glass but every glass he finds with tequila and wine alternately just to make them gulp down their shots once again.

Later, Sergio will like to say he remembers everything that has happened, but that would have been somewhat of a stretch. They keep the banter up, but contrary to the evening Raquel had arrived in Palawan it's _friendly_ and it doesn't seem to be due to just the alcohol. At least he doesn't think so, taking into account that there hadn't been a fight in weeks.

At some point Martín sits down on the carpet, facing the couch, and tells a story about the first heist Andrés and him had planned and executed together, and seems to enjoy it just as much he had enjoyed telling Mariví about Andrés. But Martín always liked to talk about him, didn't he, Sergio realizes. Despite all of them slurring, and that is certainly not only due to Sergio's own drunkenness, Raquel starts to ask in-depth questions which the other two are more than happy to answer.

“God, I miss this,” Martín sighs after explaining how they sold the jewellery.

“What? Breaking into stuff? You have more money than you could _ever_ spend!”

“It's not about the money.”

“Oh, you're so full of shit,” Raquel laughs, “That just what Sergio said earlier. _Of course,_ it's about the money.”

“It's part of it,” Martín corrects her, “But if you're planing a heist and your only goal is it to get _money_...”

“You'll get caught,” Andrés concludes.

“Exactly! Because where is the passion?”

“The beauty!”

“You two are not making sense,” Raquel says still amused.

“When it's only money you're after than you don't have anything else on your mind,” Sergio says slowly and looks straight ahead to not look into Raquel's face, who he feels staring at him from her seat next to him, “Sure, you want to get that in the end, but like they said you'll get caught sooner or later if you don't have another motive. Greed makes you careless and assailable, when you break into something for the act itself you won't be, though, because then you want to enjoy any minute of it.”

“Tell me, Raquel, did you ever stand in a room full of people who did everything you told them to? Sure, you did, that was your job, wasn't it?” Andrés asks with a grin.

“That was different,” she says and even though Sergio still doesn't look at her he knows she gets defensive.

“Are you sure about that? And don't start with lecturing me on 'right' and 'wrong', 'justice' and 'law', these are concepts men created to structure an unstructured world. What I'm talking about is making the impossible happen with a mere wave of your hand after you have spent months working towards this one moment.”

“So it's about power?”

“And about the thrill,” Martín adds with a grin.

“It's about all of that,” Sergio says, “The power, the thrill, the passion, the money, the beauty. It's about _perfection_.” He finally turns to look into Raquel's face, and what he finds there surprises him. He never dared to put the reasoning why he planned the heist into these words, too afraid he would scare her off. Despite everything she did for him he knows her well enough by know to realize she worked for the police due to be convinced that people like him deserve to be put behind bars. Now, he he doesn't find any disgust in her eyes, though, on the contrary, he sees the same spark that is to be seen in Andrés', Martín's, and probably his own eyes as well, when they talk about a heist.

“It's you against the world. And no one can stop you,” she more or less whispers.

“Well, Raquel, I like you more and more by the minute,” Martín cheers and brings Sergio back to the here and now, “Let's drink to that!”

-

They go to bed soon after. Sergio had been tired for the last hour, and since his _confession_ and Raquel's unexpected reaction to it he feels the need to be alone with here, however he didn't find an opportunity to excuse himself. Thankfully, Martín dozed off all of the sudden, head nearly hitting the table while doing so, and that had been the perfect excuse not just for him, but for Andrés as well, who seemed to be as willing to retire to his own rooms as Sergio was.

Raquel is still more or less giggling, probably due to emptying the tequila with Martín in the last fifteen minutes, and throws her arms around Sergio's neck and kisses him as soon as they close the door behind themselves. It's sloppy, more teeth than tongue, and they both laugh into it. He tries to get his hands under her shirt, but he somehow stumbles while doing so and they nearly end up falling to the ground.

“I think we should brush our teeth first,” Raquel suggest and he only nods.

After they both finished in the bathroom they crawl into bed, and Sergio just now realizes the world around him is moving unpleasantly. “I'm too tired,” she says apologetic and lies down on top of him like she's a blanket.

“That's alright,” he answers somewhat relieved and places a kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks for the great evening.”

“It really was good, wasn't it?” he still doesn't quite believe it.

“Yeah,” she laughs, “Totally weird.”

They are silent for a few minutes and he is afraid Raquel fell asleep like that since it's definitely nice to have her this close, but uncomfortably warm all the same. Just as he tries to find a way to roll her off him without waking her up she suddenly speaks, “I love you, Sergio.”

At first he think he misheard it, but no, he definitely didn't. “I-” he starts, but she interrupts him, “No! I want to say it when I'm sober. I want to hear you say it for the first time when we're not shit-faced.”

“Okay,” he says and feels his mouth nearly hurt with how big he smiles , “Then we should go to sleep right now.”

“Yes,” and with a small kiss to his lips she rolls to her side of the bed, “Good night.”

“Good night, love.”

-

The next morning he wakes up with a headache and to the words _“I love you”_ being whispered into his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did they say "I love you" in the first two seasons? I honestly don't remember, but it would have been kinda weird so in my head the only did after spending a few months together.  
> And maybe Paula shouldn't be that excited about writing postcards despite this taking place a few years ago, but I blame it on her being around adults for too long.


	4. Andrés through the year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, this took longer than I thought it would, but it's finally done after all.  
> Shout out to [dashwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dashwood/pseuds/dashwood) who had those lovely headcanons about Andrés and Paula painting Palermo, and about those two being Paula's tutors. Of course, their lessons would involved a lot of examples involving heists and hostages. So as you'll all see the part that includes Paula is totally build on those great ideas and I want to thank you once again for sharing them with me.

Andrés is standing on his favourite patio and looks onto the water that is currently red-hued by the setting sun. Being an artist for many years he has painted water in all its forms countless of times – ponds, lakes, aquaria, wine, rain, tears, pools, and of course the sea. Naturally, one's essences was harder to capture than the other's, but nevertheless he succeeded. The South China Sea however turned out to be his most challenging piece yet, and he feels himself growing mad with the question ' _why'._ Despite being more beautiful than most seas he has painted it is still merely a sea, not more than water in its purest form, so there is no reason _why_ all the pathetic attempts he put onto a those canvas' look utterly soulless.

“Staring onto the beach, again?” A voice pulls him out of his thoughts and when he turns around he finds his brother sitting at the small table they sometimes dine at.

“There is something that I'm missing, I know there is, but I don't get my head around _what_ it is. It can hardly be more than a small, easily overlooked detail and yet it is so vital that all my pictures aren't even wroth to be hung up in a shabby hotel room.”

“Maybe you'll find it on the bottom of your glass,” Sergio suggests and points at the bottle he brought with him.

“I doubt it, but since this seems to be one of the wines _I_ have purchased I can hardly say no to drinking it with you,” Andrés sighs and walks over to his brother, realizing that looking into a glass of wine will probably be as effective as looking at the enigmatic waters.

“You finally ran from the horrible music?” he asks after he sat down, once again painfully aware of what made him flee the house in the first place since fragments of pop song echo through the closed windows.

“I tried my best, I really did! But-” Sergio groans frustrated, “How are they not sick of it, yet? How long has it been? Weeks? How can a moderately sane person listen and _sing_ and _dance_ to _this_ every other night for _weeks_ without losing their will to live?”

“That would require they were sane people to begin with, and let's be honest, brother, no one who's voluntarily sharing a house with either of us can be anything but mad,” Andrés grins.

“Raquel is not _mad_ ,” Sergio says, visibly taken aback.

“Of course she is, if she wasn't she would never have come here in the first place. But don't worry, not only your partner is quite the lunatic.”

“I don't think you should say that about Martín either."

“Why not?” Andrés laughs, “May I remind you that you have called him crazy _countless_ of times?”

“I did, but I don't... He's not my _partner_.”

“What difference does that make? We all are _mad_ , Sergio, in the most positive meaning of the word. And is this truly something you're ashamed of when the alternative is being ordinary like the other small minded people, who will never be where we are right now, where we have been?”

“It would be easier, wouldn't it?” Sergio asks, his shoulders sinking in ever so slightly.

“Easier? Living your life nine to five, an endless, dull routine that is only interrupted by two weeks of vacation in a boring country – I can't imagine anything that would be _harder_.”

“But at least then-” Sergio sighs and shakes his head. For a few moments he looks as lost in his own thoughts as Andrés hasn't seen him in months, before he comes back to the here and now with a sad smile. “Don't you think that this kind of life could have its perks? Following a routine, not thinking about what's _next,_ or where to go from here. Just doing what society expects from you without that voice in your head telling you, you have to do _better_?”

“Is that what you wish for? The little voice telling you to archive greatness silenced?”

“I don't know! Maybe. Yes, sometimes I just want to enjoy the moment without asking myself what I'll do tomorrow, or next year.” The amount of anger Sergio suddenly radiates makes it clear that this isn't a new thought but one that he carries around with him for weeks, probably even months, and Andrés wonders how he could have missed this since he had always been able to read his brother like an open book. However, thinking back he realizes they haven't spent so much as ten minutes alone ever since the Inspectora and her family had arrive, and even before that their private conversations had been few and far in between.

“So, your little domesticated life finally bores you?”

“No, I- I'm not _bored_ , but I'm- God, I'm ungrateful, am I not? I have this perfect woman by my side and her kind daughter and mother, and they _like_ me, and I'm happy. Every day I wake up being thankful they're here, that _all of us_ are together, but I keep asking myself if this was it. I've spent my life with working towards the fulfillment of the Mint heist and now that it's done I don't know what is _next_ ,” with a suddenly accusing voice he adds, “And what are you still doing here?”

“What is that supposed to mean? I listened to-”

“No, you were always the restless one of us two! You settled for a new ' _perfect'_ plan every two weeks, broke into the most implausible places for the hell of it. You were married _five_ times, goddammit! And now you're here playing house with _Martín_ for nearly _two years_ and you're seemingly _happy_ with it!”

Andrés smiles at his brother's sudden outburst and says, “Well, I have to finish my painting of the South China Sea before I can settle somewhere else.”

“Oh, stop this bullshit! Why are you still here despite having all the money in the world to finally do everything that you've ever wanted?” Sergio has this funny little look on his face like he always does when he isn't able to get his brilliant mind around something. Normally, Andrés would have loved to let him suffer a while longer, but at the same time Sergio looks so _miserable_ that he thinks better of it.

“I nearly died in the Mint,” Sergio nods in understanding, “No, not just like that. When we made our way to the tunnel only Nairobi and me where left and we heard the police right behind us. I was certain we wouldn't make it, and I made up my mind to stay behind and hinder them from following you. In my head it was either me, or all of us. Me, or _you_ and Martín. It seemed to be more reasonable to let it only be me, but Nairobi disagreed.” He doesn't tell Sergio anything about the tears that had run down her face, the way she scream that she hated him while she tried to push him further along, and how she finally pulled her gun on him and threatened to shoot him if he didn't follow her. He neither tells Sergio the words she said to him that finally made him run with her to the safe where they went into the tunnel, and some miracle made them come out alive after all. “It had never been that close, neither to one of us getting arrested nor to one of us dying, and I realized I don't want to go just yet.”

“I would never have forgiven you if you had sacrificed yourself,” Sergio says with a throaty voice.

“Maybe, but you would have gotten over it, but Martín on the other hand... He doesn't deserve to be left behind, not after- Well, we have lost a lot of time. And I get you, brother, believe me, there are days I grow mad with the need to be anywhere but _here_ , to feel the thrill of a break-in, to see the beauty of a plan unfold. And the day will come on that we'll leave this house behind, but it's not the right time for me and neither it is for you.”

“You're probably right,” Sergio says sounding anything but convinced.

With a laugh Andrés retorts, “Of course I am, when haven't I?”

-

It's two weeks until Christmas and Sergio took it onto himself to decorate the whole house and estate with the most cliché red ribbons, fir branches and candy canes. It's a nightmare, and when Andrés tried to get rid of the junk Sergio got angry and told him they had to do it for Paula since it's her first Christmas away from her old home and _'everything is supposed to be perfect'._ Andrés doesn't understand how defacing their house could help _anyone_ with feeling comfortable, but he never got why people went mad over the birth of a boy in whose religious importance they didn't even believe in, either. Of course, Martín, who always had an inclination for the dramatic, loves this so called _decorations_ thus Andrés had to settle for the promise that every last candy cane is going to disappear as soon as Christmas is over.

However, to make matters worse _someone_ placed a big, ugly, adorned with candy canes and fake candles, Christmas tree right in the middle of his study. For ten solid seconds he merely stared at it in disbelieve before storming angrily through the room. Unfortunately, kicking it had the only effect that his foot hurts now and the floor is covered in fir needles, all the while the tree stands tall and mockingly above him. He is still trying to find a way to get rid of it when the kid whom he has to thank for being in this nightmare creeps up on him.

“Can you help me with my painting?” she asks after coming to a halt mere inches behind him, obviously not even wondering about the tree.

“What kind of painting?” he asks annoyed while not taking his eyes from the monstrosity and internally debating whether he should just place it in Sergio's bed.

“I want to give mum a painting for Christmas.”

“Aren't you a little old for drawing pictures and calling them a gift?” Maybe his brother isn't responsible for this after all, but putting the tree in Martín's bed would mean having a tree in his _own_ bed which would be even worse than the current situation.

“But you got Palermo a painting for his birthday, too. He told me so!”

“Yes, but _I_ am an artist. My paintings are _art._ Your paintings are the random stroke of a brush on a piece of paper, and I don't think your mother will be excited when she receives it.” He has to find a place where the tree will annoy both Sergio and Martín, but at the same time be out of his own way.

“Can I see the painting you made for Palermo?”

“Absolutely not.” The painting showing them in a beautiful, naked embrace is currently hanging on their bedroom wall and the girl already knows enough about him, she doesn't need to see his body, as well.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“So can you teach how to be an artist?”

For a moment he looks at her, takes her small frame and the determined look on her face in, once again realizing she's her mother's daughter, “This isn't something you can be taught over the curse of two weeks, it's years and years of practice before you have mastered the craft. I'm an excellent teacher, but-”

“Then you can help me with her present.”

Groaning he takes his eyes of the tree and turns to face her. Months of living together proofed she can be quite persistent when she got an especially annoying idea and he already sees her planting her feet in preparation to being send off. “What do you have in mind?” It feels like a defeat.

“I don't know, I thought you could help me,” Paula beams.

“Your mother has this picture of the two of you she's rather found of. She'd probably liked it if you painted that.” The idea comes so quickly into his mind that he rather not think about why he even knows about this ridiculous photo.

“Great, I'll ask her to-”

“No, then it won't be a surprise any more, will it?”

“Nooo?” She draws the word unnaturally long, making it sound more like a question than an answer.

“No, indeed. And since she carries it around with her,” again he rather not dwell too much on why he knows that, “We'll have to wait until she's back home before we can steal it.”

“Cool. Do you teach me how to steal, as well?”

“No, go ask Palermo to do that.”

“But can you teach me how to paint, now? We only have two weeks!”

“I'm rather busy-” he tries but is interrupted right away, “Please?”

She is doing the thing with her face again where she opens her eyes wider than it should be possible while her lips quivers ever so slightly. It's a laughable bad attempt at looking cute, and even though the trick doesn't work at all on him, he's aware that it's either an hour long discussing or getting it over with now, so he says, “Alright, but not more than an hour, after that you have to pay me.”

“Great!”

“And Palermo did send you, didn't he?” She nods slowly, smile not even sinking, “Good, than we'll practice on him.”

Martín only smirks when Andrés and the kid join him in the kitchen, various pencils and sheets of paper in their hands, “Ah, I knew Berlin will gladly help you,” he says smugly while chopping some vegetables.

Sitting down at the counter Andrés hisses through gritted teeth, “And in exchange for my help you will help her steal a photo from her mother.”

“That sounds like fun!” Martín exclaims. So much for annoying him back, how fortunate that Andrés still has a Christmas tree standing in the middle of his study awaiting its fate.

“Show me how to paint!” Paula says eagerly and climbs onto the chair next to Andrés.

“Before we paint you have to learn how to make a sketch. Later, when you will have acquired _some_ skill you can start with the painting right away, but you're certainly not there. Thus, we'll start with something simple. I want you to look at Palermo.”

“Okay,” she nods and shifts her attention from him to Martín who's still occupied with his cooking, but taking the smile on his lips into account is very much following their exchange.

“No, I want you to really _look_ at him.”

“Okaaay,” she says and once again it sounds more like a question.

He follows suit, looks at Martín and tries to take every small detail in. Sees his mischievously glinting eyes, the scattered grey hairs he denies are there, the wrinkles around his smiling mouth, his clever fingers holding the knife so expertly like he's a trained chef, the small burn scar on his knuckles from a robbery gone slightly wrong, the hickey on his collarbone that Andrés sucked into his skin two nights ago and that's barely visible under the shirt, a shirt that hugs his frame so nicely, his adorable nose-

“I'm done looking, now,” Paula says.

Martín, reading his mind like he always does, winks and Andrés is even more eager to be done with the painting lesson. “Good. Now, we'll outline his frame. Try to pay attention to the proportions, especially.”

He has painted Martín so many times that he doesn't have to look up to do so, his hand seems to move on its own, and he's positive it would find the its way even without the help of his eyes. Of course, Paula hasn't done it before so he takes his time and only takes a peek at her sheet after two minutes. What he finds there is rather shocking. “What are you doing?”

“I'm drawing Palermo.”

“But why are you doing it _like that_?!”

“My art teacher taught me how to do that!”

She drew a stick figure and on its limbs she smeared various circles which she's currently trying to connect to each other. Sitting on the hour-glass-shaped middle is a crooked triangle that is probably supposed to resemble a head, and to make matters worse she put the typical smiley on his 'face'. “This man clearly doesn't know the first thing about _art._ ”

“ _She-_ ”

“Of course, it's a woman.”

“Is really great,” Paula continues like he hasn't said anything, “She makes all these great sculptures and she's really nice. And you told me to get the proportion right, and she showed us this trick. Look, I divided Palermo in eight parts: his head is one part, his legs are four parts-”

“He is a human being! You can't just _divide_ him!”

“Well, I didn't,” Paula giggles, “But I divided his _picture_. You just have to paint a stick figure, and then you'll add these circles, then you'll outline it again and erase the rest, and then you're done.”

Frustrated with the amount of ignorance Andrés shakes his head, “Go ahead and use this _technique_ when you paint buildings, but not when you're painting living beings. How can you possible capture their essences, their _soul_ , when you approach them in such a soulless manner.”

“But you told my to get the proportions right!” she says enraged.

“Yes, but that doesn't-”

“What are you all doing here?” Raquel is suddenly entering the kitchen from seemingly nowhere, curious look on her face. He stops his lecture despite desperately wanting to make Paula understand why she _cannot_ continue drawing this way, and sees her flip her sheet right before her mother plants a kiss on top of her head.

“Palermo is explaining my maths homework to me,” she says calmly without any hint of the anger that was on her face a few seconds ago.

“Really?” Raquel asks with a raised eyebrow, her gaze wandering over the counter that's clearly lacking a maths book.

“Sure,” Martín nods, “We were just training multiplications.”

“I hate them,” Paula grumbles, which is more convincing since Andrés remembers her being rather bad with them.

“Ah, nothing to hate about it, it's basically additions with _fun_. So, like I told you, you have twenty hostages and want to keep them for ten days. Every hostage eats three packages of food. How many packages of food do you need for the ten days?”

“Ahm... thirty?”

“No, you have twenty hostages not just one, this means-”

“Really, hostages?” Raquel interrupts him.

“Well, I thought it would be practical to work with some true-to-life examples,” Martín grins.

“Being responsible for _twenty_ hostages is hardly practical.”

“May I remind you that hostages are _essential_ to a heist that is supposed to take place over days, _Inspectora_.”

“Okay, lets assume you need hostages for your plan to work out, then why _twenty_? Shouldn't, lets say, five be enough?”

“The more, the merrier,” Andrés smiles.

“And this is where you a wrong,” Raquel grins, pointing fingers like she just _waited_ for that argument, “More hostages only means more trouble, more risks.”

“I think I'll go to my room,” Paula mumbles and not only takes her own drawing but Andrés' as well and is so fast out of the room that he doesn't have time to protest. Neither her mother nor Martín seem to notice her leaving, though.

“The less hostages you have, the bigger is the risk of police just coming in. Besides _sometimes_ you need them to work for you,” Martín explains and puts his knife down.

“Okay, I'm not talking about the Mint here, that was... absolutely bonkers and, I hate to admit it, nearly _perfectly_ executed, but generally speaking? Why bother with so many hostages, or hostages at all, when you could achieve your goal easier and without risking a revolt?” Raquel asks and sits down on her daughter's vacant seat.

“And this is what I tried to explain before; it's not always about _achieving the goal,_ but about perfecting the heist itself.”

“All this _perfection_ hardly matters when you're dead or in prison.”

“Why do you always have the expect the worst? I could go into town right now and be hit by a bus. Does that mean I have to stay here for the rest of my life?”

“Oh, come on, this comparison doesn't work and you _know it_. At a certain number you don't have hostages because you need them, but because you want to show off.”

“And what is this number?”

Andrés remembers the two having quite a similar discussion without coming to an agreement in the end, and he doubts it will be any different this time, thus he gets up wordlessly and leaves the kitchen. Just like with Paula before they don't seem to care. He certainly doesn't mind, there is still a Christmas tree he has to take care of, and he knows _exactly_ where he'll place it.

-

Sitting on one of the patio's canvas chairs in the middle of the night is marvellous for several reasons – the air is pleasantly warm but not sweltering, the sea looks beautiful in the moonlight and he feels closer to getting behind its enigma than during any other hour of the day, and most importantly it's _quiet_. Ever since the house is permanently cramped with people he hardly finds an hour alone with himself and his thoughts, and he enjoys those rare moments more than ever before. Unfortunately, tonight he hasn't such luck. After being outside for what feels like mere minutes he hears the door leading to the living room being opened and at first he's certain it's Martín who woke up to an empty bed and is now involuntarily alarmed, but when he turns around it's Raquel whom he finds there.

For a moment she looks like she wants to turn around and leave immediately, but somehow thinks better of it, probably in order to not seem rude. “Do you mind?” she asks and points at the canvas chair next to his.

“Be my guest,” he says. She is wearing a nice bathrobe Andrés remembers Sergio getting her for Christmas. Taking that and her naked legs into account she probably comes right out of bed. As soon as she sat down she fumbles around in one of the large pockets to reveal a pack of cigarettes he has never seen on her before. With slightly shaking fingers she lightens one and sinks into the cushions, releasing the smoke with a sigh.

“Nightmares?” he asks even though it's rather obvious.

“Yes,” she nods and closes her eyes.

He is tempted to question their nature, but he probably wouldn't get an answer anyway.

They both stay silent for a few minutes and Andrés has nearly forgotten about her presences when she asks, “And what are you doing here?”

“Martín tends to talk in his sleep, normally I don't mind, but it kept me awake tonight.”

“Sergio sleeps like a stone. Literately. He closes his eyes and is gone, and then he wakes up eight hours later without having moved an inch.”

“Yes, he has always been like that.”

She smiles at that and stubs out her cigarette to let the remains disappear into a small tin she seemingly carried around in her bathrobe, as well. With that the little conversation runs dry again and Andrés thinks about retiring to his bed despite not feeling any more tired than when he got up in the first place. As if sensing it Raquel speaks again, so fast like the words just waited to leave her mouth, “You once told me you miss it. Stealing, doing a break-in, the thrill of it all, so why didn't you until now?”

“Do you think I'm not in control of my urges?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” she answers and it's obvious she wanted to say 'yes', “But that's not what I mean. What keeps you from doing it?”

“Commit a crime and risking our cover being blown up? Certainly, a very small risk, however Sergio will probably never forgive me if I'd be responsible for any harm being done to you.”

“Oh, bullshit. I've seen you record, you've never cared about any risks. On the contrary, you chased after them. And even if this is about keeping us safe then why don't you go somewhere else? It's not like anything is stopping either of you two.”

“You want to get rid of me? Well, Inspectora, I'm hurt,” he grins.

“No, that's not it, I actually don't _,_ even though I don't know _why_ most of the time,” she sighs, “I just want to understand it. Aren't you bored with the life you're living right now?”

He remembers quite a similar conversation he had with Sergio a few months ago and wonders whether she asks on his behalf or her own. “Sometimes, yes, but there is a difference between being trapped in a boring life or _choosing_ to lead it. If I'll get up tomorrow and decide go to the other end of the world then there is nothing that's going to stop me.”

“Besides Palermo.”

“Oh, he has the bad habit of following me where-ever I go,” Andrés smirks, “Not that I mind, and this time would hardly be any different, despite him not wanting to leave this place.”

“So, you're staying because of him?”

“It's a part of it.”

She shakes her head, “What about Sergio, is he staying because of me?”

“It's hard to say. However, I think you know him better by now than I do.” It feels like a confession, as much to himself as to her, and it leaves a sour taste on his tongue. The one thing he could always count on was being the most important person in his brother's life and at this point he's probably not even coming second place.

Groaning Raquel fetches another cigarette. “You've got one for me?” he asks and with a shrug she hands him the pack and lighter. It's been years since he took his last drag, one of his ex-wives had a habit of smoking after sex and he had been so much in love he thought it was attractive. If he remembers correctly the love for her died only weeks later, as fast as it had arisen in him.

The smoke burns in his throat, nonetheless he feels his whole body relax. “Tell me, did you dream of becoming a _criminal_ even before you met my brother, or did living with us ruin you?”

She laughs at that, but is distinctly flustered, “It's only professional curiosity.”

“Of course it is, _Inspectora._ ”

They smoke in silence and after she has finished her cigarette she says, “If Palermo asked you to leave with him, would you?”

“Without any hesitation.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” she nods, small smile on her lips, and gives him the tin for his own stub, “I think I will go back to bed, now.”

After storing everything back in the pocket of her robe she gets up and walks over to the door, before she can disappear into the house once again, though, she stops in her tracks, “Another thing I wondered about; you only call him 'Palermo' when he's around, but he calls you 'Berlin' all the time. At first I thought it's a kink...”

With a laughs he turns around and looks at her standing there with crossed arms and nearly vary look on her face, “No, not a kink. I did... He has been in love with me for a very long time and I didn't return those feelings, at least I thought so. I said and did things to him that hurt him very much, and that pain didn't leave him even when I finally came back to him. But _Berlin_ didn't do those things and neither did Palermo suffer the way Martín did,” he closes his eyes for a moment, “I would have done everything for him to forgive me. Calling him by another name seems to be an unfairly small prize to pay.”

She nods as if she understands, and maybe she does, “Good night, Andrés.”

“Good night, Raquel,” he answers and sinks back into his chair. A few minutes later he goes back to his own bed, feeling the sudden need to hold Martín close.

-

Andrés is woken up by Martín and Paula standing in front of his bed, only dressed in their bathing-suits and screaming “Beach day!” from the top of their lungs. It is so surreal and he's still more asleep than awake despite the assault that he only realizes this isn't a dream when it's already too late, and he's dragged along through the house. “We're living right at the beach, there is _no point_ of having a 'beach day',” he complains, but neither listens. The only thing that brightens his mood is that they have prepared a rather delicious breakfast and since it's a windless day he only gets the occasional grain of sand between his teeth.

Over the curse of the next few hours he tries to flee back into the house on several occasions, but every time he leaves to 'put the dishes away' or 'finally take a shower' he has to promise them to be right back. Begrudgingly he realizes he's not able to break those meaningless promises and finds himself still sitting in the sand in the early hours of the afternoon.

Next to him Martín, who's skin turns laughingly fast lobster-red even though he spent the majority of his life in sunny countries, is lying under a parasol, reading a book, and still only wearing shorts. That is probably the only good thing about this ordeal, even though Andrés makes a point of still being in his shirt and slacks. After forcing them to bury her into the sand until only her head had been left, Paula finally went back into the water, water that Andrés is once again studying without finding what he's looking for since he painted the first picture of it.

“She needs to go back to school,” Andrés groans when Paula beckons them to join her.

“It's only been two weeks,” Martín mumbles.

“Why do those children get so much free time in the summer? It's not like they are doing any work that would entitle them to it.”

“They are kids, let them have some fun before they grow up,” Martín says and Andrés can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

He ignores another request to go into the water and looks at his latest try of painting the Sea that sits on the easel in front of him. By all means it's a good piece, certainly better than the trash he produced in the last months, but it still isn't _right_. Though, at some point the frustration over his inability to see _what_ is wrong with it takes hold of him, and he can't bear to look at it any minute longer. Thus, he dips his brush into the paint he brought with him _in case_ and starts to add Paula into the picture. She dives into the waves, comes back to the surface a few seconds later, panting and wet and beaming. He's so absorbed in studying her movements, the way the sun reflects on her skin, and then projecting these impressions onto the canvas that he doesn't even realize Martín is standing behind him until he says, “Well, that's definitely better than before.”

Taking a step back Andrés looks onto the picture, and yes, Martín is right, it still isn't _perfect,_ but he's getting closer. “Maybe my approach was the problem,” he mumbles. He's not feeling the relieve he's probably ought feel right now and Paula's face on the picture seems to smile at him tauntingly, like its aware of how much of an improvement it is to his painting despite its insignificance. Groaning he sits down on the towel behind him.

“Who would have thought that it's a child that you need to be finally satisfied,” Martín grins and sits down next to him.

“It's not _her,_ or any child, but that I only concentrated on the Sea itself without taking into account how it influences the people living in and from it. Either that or I interpret too much into it. I'll have to inspect it more closely under the light in my study, under light of the sun everything looks good.”

“Do you sometimes think about it? Having children on your own?” Martín asks all of the sudden, already looking like he regrets it.

“I think we are a little old to raise a child,” Andrés says with furrowed brows.

“Talk for yourself, grandpa,” Martín laughs weakly, “But honestly, did you never wonder what it would be like?”

He didn't, and even though they've never talked about it before he's quite sure Martín is aware he never wanted to be a father. Of course, his wives ultimately asked him to get them pregnant, since it seems to be in a woman's nature to want a child when she realizes the clock is ticking, but he had never been plagued with such sentimental urges. However, instead of saying any of this he merely shakes his head, “You did, didn't you?”

“Well, it was obviously never an option, but there was a time I wanted to be a farther more than anything.” Martín's pupils go wide and for a moment he seems to wander off into a memory before he blinks a few times and looks at Andrés with a hesitant smile.

“You have _never_ let yourself be hold off something you wanted,” Andrés muses, “So, why did you not just get a woman pregnant who desperately wished for a child? I'm certain you would have found a willing candidate in no time at all.”

“And then what? Seeing the child every two weeks and on holidays? I wanted to be a _farther_ , not a sperm-donator,” Martín huffs, “Despite, who could have promised me I wouldn't turn out to be like my farther.”

He takes Martín's kind face in, the smile on his lips and the look of regret in his eyes, and for a moment he can see it; Martín with a baby in his arms, crying tears of joy, holding it close when it screams, reading it to sleep, teaching it mathematics and physics and how to play football, eyes full of love and being infinitely happy. “Me, I could have told you.”

Martín kisses him for that, short and sweet and with words on his lips which Andrés doesn't need to hear to know them. “Well, now it's too late, so there's no point in wondering what would have been.”

“We could still pick up a stray from the streets,” Andrés says mockingly.

“We?” Martín repeats with a laugh.

“Of course, it's not like I have too much of a choice when you decide to take one in. Nonetheless, I'll probably should put a ring on your finger, first, otherwise your little fantasy of the perfect family wouldn't be complete, would it.”

“You want to make me your number six?” Martín asks, smile sinking distinctly.

Andrés answers without giving a thought into it, “No, not number six. The last one.”

In the split of a second Martín's face takes a unnatural shade of white, “Are you purposing?” It's hardly more than a whisper.

Is he? “No, you surely deserve a better proposal than _this_ ,” he gesticulates to Paula's various toys lying in the sand not a meter from their feet, “But if it were, what would your answer be?”

Martín lets out a laugh that sounds dangerously like a sob, “Of course, I'd say yes.”

“Good,” Andrés smiles. This time it's him who leans in for a kiss and it would have turned out far more passionate than the last one if they hadn't been interrupted.

“Stop being so gross,” Paula giggles and Andrés feels his shirt getting soaked by the water that stream from her body.

“Stop being so annoying,” Martín retorts and whips a single tear from the corner of his eye. Despite his words he throws an arm around Paula's shoulders when she sits down right next to him, seemingly not minding that he gets as wet as her by doing so.

“Cool picture,” she says and points at her own face that is smiling down at them, “Can I get that for mum's birthday?”

“No.”

“Why not? She would be really happy.”

“Because you'll tell her you painted it and that will be just embarrassing since no one will believe it, like the last time you tricked me into making a painting for your mother.”

“We did that _together_.”

“Putting your name onto something _in the end_ doesn't mean you were involved in the process.”

“That is so not true, I did not only put my name onto it! I-”

Andrés decides to ignore whatever she is going to say next since he's not making the mistake of arguing with a child. Again. And he will definitely show Martín all the things they wouldn't be able to do any more with being responsible for baby tonight. Hopefully, it'll make Martín forget about picking up strays. They've already got more than enough children in their life.


	5. Raquel and a new beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sets in the first episode of season three and turned out much longer than I thought it would. Again. Despite this going a similar way like the show does (plus Berlin being there obviously) I tried to retell as little as possible so that is not merely a boring re-read of what you've already watched. Tokyo is in this so there will be some fighting, and general discussions, but there are a few light-hearted moments as well.  
> So, have fun with this.

The destruction of their little paradise comes in form of Tokyo and it's less of a surprise than Raquel wishes it were. Leaving your old life behind to move in with a bunch of criminals is bound to lead to chaos and she's only glad that it was none of them who fucked it up. Of course, when she learns about Sergio's plan to keep them all safe included the housing of Tokyo and her boy-toy on a deserted island she isn't so sure about that any more, and once again she wonders how such a brilliant man can be so thick sometimes. At first she wants to be angry, at Tokyo who acted so recklessly, at Sergio who didn't realize that the woman clearly needs an outlet and for even making her a part of his plan in the first place, and at herself for exposing her family to such a potential threat, but weirdly the anger never comes. Well, when being called a bitch and other creative insults she slaps Tokyo, however it's merely the only sensible reaction to this audacity, and after that they seem to come to the fragile understanding that they'll make the best out of this situation. Thus, Raquel isn't nearly as enraged as she probably should be, but that, of course, doesn't apply to Berlin and Palermo. 

Tokyo just sat down in their dining room to explain _why_ she's here when the two men come back from where-ever they went, happily chatting, and stop dumbfounded in their tracks as soon as their eyes land on their newest visitor. “You got to be shitting me,” Palermo whispers nearly inaudible before everyone just starts to _shout._

For a few minutes Raquel watches the three of them alternating between making threats and insulting each other while Sergio unsuccessfully tries to calm them down. She feels somewhat reminded of her own first evening here and realizes, not without satisfaction, that her appearance had been met with far less fury despite her being an ex-cop. Admittedly, the whole exchange even amuses her until Tokyo starts to talk about ' _Russian Roulette'_.

“This time we'll see it through,” Berlin says through gritted teeth.

“ _This_ time?” Raquel repeats, hoping she misheard.

“Enough!” Sergio suddenly growls, finally having lost his patience by the mentioning of staining his favourite carpet with blood “No one is shooting _anyone._ Tokyo was just about to tell us why she came here, we might listen _before_ we threaten each other.”

So after a few more snarls Tokyo tells them about leaving the island, about using a phone to call Rio and him being arrested while she was chased by armed forces herself. With every word Raquel feels her heart sink, sees Aníbal Cortés' young face, remembers his mother pleading _to get her son back_ , and involuntarily has to think about Paula who is in her room at the other end of their house, hopefully far enough away to miss the dark clouds arising on the horizon.

“Why hasn't been _anything_ about the arrest in the papers, yet? Why don't they congratulate themselves on finally catching one of us?”

Looking into the other faces Raquel realizes they know the answer as well, but despite their apparent resentment they don't want to say it out loud. “They haven't arrested him officially. They imprisoned him somewhere far away from any civilization to _interrogate_ him,” she says with a flat voice, stating what everyone is obviously thinking. 

“No,” Tokyo mumbles with a shake of her head, “He doesn't know where any of you are. He has told them that, and that he wants a lawyer. They have to give him a lawyer.” Raquel remembers the day she had Tokyo cuffed to a chair and not for a second she had looked so utterly full of terror like she does right now. “Please, tell me they'll get him a lawyer,” she whisper to none of them in particular.

“He's being tortured for all that we know,” Raquel clarifies, and she's aware that it sounds harsh, but only now the realization seems to hit in. The last bit of hope in Tokyo's eyes shatters and Raquel nearly feels sorry for her.

“They cannot... they can't do that!”

“They can and they do,” Berlin says without revealing any emotion.

“He won't... we have to save him. I-” she says, voice starting to tremble, and is interrupted with a huff from Palermo, “ _We_ certainly don't have to do anything. This was _your_ doing, _you_ fucked up like you always do, and now you expect _us_ to save your sorry, little ass again? But you know what, _fuck you_ , Tokyo. I won't give up everything we've built here because you're still not able to follow simple orders!”

Tokyo seems to be close to jumping to her feet and attack him, but before she gets the chance to do so he is leaving the room, Berlin right behind him. For a second Raquel think about following suit, unfortunately, chances seem to be rather slim that Tokyo will be gone when she comes back.

“Please, Professor,” Tokyo whispers, distressingly looking close to tears, “We can't let that happen. He doesn't deserve that. Not him.”

Sergio cowers down in front of her, takes her hands gently into his, promising he'll find a way. Watching this Raquel feels weirdly reminded of an afternoon a few weeks ago when Paula scratched both her knees and wouldn't stop crying until Sergio dressed the wounds and told her a story about a frog looking for a friend she actually seemed to be too old for. “I remember my mother telling this story when I was sad, I thought it was more fitting than the stories my father has told me,” Sergio later explained shyly, misinterpreting the smile on Raquel's face. Just that Tokyo isn't a child, and certainly not _his_ , and for the split of the second Raquel is embarrassingly jealous of the memories and bond these two undeniably share. She scolds herself for it at the same moment because whatever _this_ between them is, it's definitely neither sexual nor romantic so she _shouldn't_ mind.

“I'll take you to your room,” Sergio suggests when Tokyo visibly bites her tongue in order to keep herself from crying or screaming or threatening - probably all of that - and it's a further testimony to her desperation that she gets up immediately without any objection.

When Sergio leads her out of the room he mouths 'I'll be right back' to Raquel who didn't plan on going anywhere. As soon as the two left she feels herself letting go of a breath she didn't know she was holding and realizes her heart is practically racing. “Fuck,” she mumbles and just stares into the empty threshold, awaiting Sergio's return, trying not to ponder what the consequences of this unexpected visit will be.

Thankfully he stays true to his word and slumps down next to her no five minutes later with a nearly inaudible “Fuck.” Despite not wanting nor feeling anything coming close to humorous to she lets out a low chuckle.

“We have to save him,” he says with a pained voice, “I'm so sorry this is happening. I always knew it was a possibility, but I never dreamed of someone getting arrested. Well, I didn't _want to_ think about it. And I can't just sit here while Rio is... while they hurt him, I can't. He's in this because of _me_ , I owe him to do everything in my power to get him out of there.”

“I know,” she nods, anticipating these words ever since Tokyo finished her story, “We'll save him.”

-

Later, Raquel takes Paula to bed and is thankful for the few minutes she can spend away from the mess this day has become and the conversation that still awaits her. They lie down together and Raquel reads more chapters than she usually would on a school day, trying to delay the inevitable conversation that awaits her. On some point Paula falls asleep anyway, and Raquel forces herself to turn off the lights and leave when she looks into her daughter's face and it's Rio who she somehow sees there. Rio who's getting tortured and whose mother awaits a sign of life for over two and half years now, not aware what is currently done to him. What if someone – She stops herself right there like she always did when she saw things at work that hit home too close and asked herself ' _What would I do if it was Paula'._

Palermo and Berlin have already joined Sergio in the living room, looking less angry than before, but still visibly strained. It's probably for the best that Tokyo didn't reappear out of her room since Sergio took her there.

“We have to get Rio out of this,” he begins as Raquel sits down next to him.

“When you say ' _we'_ I hope you're only referring to you and Tokyo,” Berlin says tight lipped.

“There is no way I'm helping that _bitch_ ,” Palermo growls when Sergio stays traitorously quiet, “This is _her own_ goddamn fault! May I remind you that you've already saved her sorry ass once when her incompetence got her arrested.”

“I think the two of you played a big part in that arrested,” Sergio interjects.

“She had it coming. Just like she did now. Of course, she couldn't do us the favour of being imprisoned this time as well, or even better, _shot._ Instead she comes here and has the _audacity_ to ask you for help after everything you did for her!”

“I think you're a little bit-”

“What? Angry? I'm _furious,_ my friend! And I don't get why you are not! She's not just risking the freedom of the three of us with her presences, but your _family's_. What do you think will happen to you, Raquel? You're nearly as _guilty_ as we are by now, you'll rot in the cell next to us. Worst case Mariví will join our little prison-party, best case she gets sent into a shabby elderly home where she'll die a lonely death, because Paula won't be there any more, she'll be back with her _lovely_ dad.”

“This is _not_ about Paula,” Raquel hisses, trying to chase away the images of Alberto taking a scared Paula into his arms.

“This is about _all of us,_ and about taking a stupid risk for _Tokyo_!”

“It's about Rio,” Sergio disagrees, “About him being tortured right this moment.”

“How do you know he's still alive? The only thing we're certain of is that he said he saw police coming. They just as well could have shot him, he could be dead. He-”

“He isn't,” Berlin interrupts, “He is their only and best chance to find the rest of us. They won't let him die, at least not anytime soon.”

“Fuck, maybe it would be better for him. What did she say? Seventeen days? Seventeen days of torture will break most men, but Rio...” Palermo's shoulders sink in visibly and the hard look on his face softens somewhat, “He doesn't stand a chance. Best thing we could do for him is going in there and shooting him ourselves.”

“You arrogant asshole,” Raquel growls not remembering a time she had been so angry with him despite all the shit he said to her in the first few weeks of her stay, “You're sitting here, _moping,_ talking about what _a bitch_ Tokyo is while she does _everything_ to save him. And instead of being a help _for once,_ you say _that._ Fuck you!”

“Fuck me? Really, Raquel? What did you do besides fucking up your job and coming here to tell me that I'm an asshole? What are you gonna do? Run into where-the-hell-ever and save him? You don't even know him! Rio is a fucking _child_ , a child who runs around believing in mankind being inherently good. How much do you think is left us that now, huh? Is left of _him_?” He looks as if he's in pain and when Berlin places his hand on his shoulder he shakes it off angrily. She opens her mouth to reply, wants to say he's _wrong,_ that they'll find a way, but deep down she knows that freeing him doesn't mean saving him, so she closes it again.

“We won't 'run into' where-ever he's being kept,” Sergio says after a few moments of strained silence, “We'll make them give him back to us.”

“And how are we going to achieve that?” Berlin asks with a raise eyebrow.

“With a heist. With the biggest heist they have ever seen.”

Palermo shakes his head, “Are you saying what I think your saying?” Raquel sees the glinting in his eyes and is taken back to a night they shared drunk on wine and he told her about his crazy plan.

“You want to melt gold,” she states, uncertain whether her heartbeat start to fasten in fear or anticipation.

“Yes,” Sergio answers somewhat surprised.

“Oh, you little fucker,” Palermo whispers, “You've always known how to talk me into the stupidest shit.”

-

They spend the better part of the night with discussing whether this madness of a plan will force the Spanish government to hand Rio over _and_ get all of them out of it alive. No matter how they approach it, chances for both individually seem to be slim and together nearly impossible, even though _nearly_ is the key word here, at least for Sergio. Not a second goes by without him looking determinate to take every risk in order to make this plan happen, driven by the simple, selfless need to keep the people he cares about safe, and once again Raquel feels herself being hit by an overwhelming feeling of love towards him.

True to his word Palermo supports Sergio's idea and Berlin seems to be just as excited even though he's as usual better at masking his feelings as his partner. The night Palermo told her about the plan for the first time is somewhat blurry, nevertheless Raquel remembers herself saying _'this is suicide',_ an objection she expresses this time as well. However, they proofed themselves more than able to make the impossible happen during the last heist which makes her somewhat more optimistic, and “don't forget the money! We're going into this with _billions,_ and there is nothing that cannot be bought,” makes for an even better argument. In the end it boils down to the question of time since seventeen days already seem to be too much, and that one of them comes up with a better plan in the foreseeable future is rather unlikely.

Thus, when Tokyo stumbles into the living room hours later, eyes red-rimmed and hardly noticeable shaking, the only thing Sergio says is, “We'll gather the others and then we'll get him back.” Tokyo is obviously so released to hear it that she hugs and thanks all of them despite only Sergio returning the embrace whole-heartedly.

When they agree there is not so much more they can do tonight Raquel is finally alone with Sergio in their bedroom, feeling restless with fatigue and a question she wanted to ask since he first proposed to go into the Bank, “How long have you been planning this?”

He stops unbuttoning his shirt, looking like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, “What do you mean?”

She smiles and takes the few steps separating them. Placing her hand gently on his cheek and stroking the skin there she says, “It's not an accusation, I'm only wondering.”

“It's not-” he sighs, “Months, I think. But I wasn't _planning_ , and certainly I didn't want to get through with their _phantasm_. It had been only hypothetical, really. I never-”

“It's alright,” she interrupts him, “You don't have to apologize.” She saw him getting lost more and more in his own thoughts in the last few weeks and didn't dare to ask _what_ it was that made him sometimes forget the world around him, too afraid, and at the same time weirdly hopeful, what his answer would be. Turns out she had been right with her apprehension. 

“You have to stay here,” Sergio suddenly says and she's not surprised since she has more or less awaited him saying that when she first lied eyes on Tokyo.

“I'm too tired to discuss this now,” she kisses him short and softly, “We'll talk about this tomorrow.”

He doesn't object, only pulls her to their bed and holds her close until they both fall asleep.

-

Two hours later she gets up to wake Paula and eat breakfast with her. Raquel doesn't feel hungry, but forces herself to eat a few bites of her toast before the housekeeper leaves with Paula for school. Sergio already went into town in order to contact the handlers to bring the rest of _the gang,_ as Palermo embarrassingly likes to call it, to Palawan as well. Thus, for the first time since everything went crashing down she finds herself alone and the realization hits in that this will probably for the last time as well. Her home will be packed with strangers soon, people she tried to arrest and who are probably as welcoming to her as Tokyo is.

Clasping a large cup of coffee in her hands she walks aimlessly into the living room where she finds Palermo sitting on the floor, hunched over various sheets of paper.

“You're up early,” she comments, not remembering a day she saw him before ten.

“Haven't slept,” he answers without taking his eyes from what seems to be a building plan, “I've spent so many hours studying them that I could drew them with closed eyes, but now it's like half of it is _gone_.”

She sits down on the floor as well, back resting against the sofa, and takes a closer look. On most of the sheets he drew plans, some detailed, some only half finished, and others crossed out, and on others he scribbled complicate equations she doesn't even try to understand. “Is this the vault?” she asks with a grin and points to a sheet that has “ _the motherfucking gold_ ” written on it.

He ignores her question and instead mumbles, “Share your coffee with me, will ya?” hand already reaching out for it.

She ends up making them a pot of strong brewed coffee and listens to all the little details Palermo still remembers about the plan and those he forget about to his own frustration. All the questions she couldn't ask last night since they were too focused on evaluation whether this is their best option or not come back to her mind, and he is more than happy to answer them. Sometimes she doesn't understand half of it when he talks too fast and loses himself in complex mathematical issues, but she nods along anyway, and the more he goes into the details of the plan the more she sees what makes it so alluring. Soon, she even imagines herself running a hand through bags with billions worth of small gold nuggets, stolen right under the police's nose who proved themselves as incompetent as the last time.

“You should get some sleep, love,” Berlin says when he walks in on them at noon.

“Not tired,” Palermo waves him aside and goes back to explaining what they'll do with the gold when they've left the Bank.

With a smile Berlin sits down next to him, places a kiss on his cheek and waits for him to finish before musing, “I don't think anyone has ever been so happy about one of their friends being arrested.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Palermo grumbles, sounding offended, “Don't you look forward to it?”

“You know I do. I am since the first day you came up with it.” With that they are gazing into each other eyes so romantically and full of unspoken words that Raquel has the awkward feeling of being witness to a nearly sexual moment.

Another few hours later Palermo decides to take a nap after all and Raquel follows suit. Despite the absurd amounts of coffee she drank earlier she dozes off, and for a moment is confused about where she is when Paula storms into the room, asking her to sigh a permission for a field trip she is so excited about that she doesn't even seem to realizes she has woken her up.

Sergio comes back home not much after that, having reached out successfully to the other two pairs. “They'll be here in a few days,” he says pleased and she tries her best to share his joy, even though the prospect of seeing them again makes her nervous. 

They all eat dinner together which includes Tokyo whom they can't force to stay in her room for the next few days, at least Sergio says so. Raquel wouldn't agree necessarily and taking the uncomfortable look on Tokyo's face and the fact that she has not been seen all day into account, she probably wouldn't even mind it too much.

“So, what does a nice, young lady like you do here?” her mother asks, obviously in order to ease the strained atmosphere.

“Vacation,” Tokyo drawls.

“How do you know my mum?” Paula adds curiously.

“Uhm, I actually don't really know her,” for a moment Tokyo looks from Paula to the three men sitting opposite her, then she settles for, “Me and the Professor are friends.”

Paula chuckles at that, “He doesn't like to be called that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Palermo always calls him that to annoy him.”

Tokyo starts to grin at that and as if to draw the attention away from the topic Sergio says to Paula, “Tokyo is an old friend of mine and needs help with her work, so she came here. And she will be staying for a while.”

“Is she one of those old friends you wrote the postcards to?”

“Yes, she is,” he says flustered. It's the first time Raquel hears from those postcards, and considering the puzzled look on Tokyo's face she has never received one despite the claim.

“You and your stupid postcards,” Palermo groans nearly inaudibly.

“Actually, the others will join us here as well,” Sergio continues, ignoring the remark.

Paula wrinkles her nose at that, probably not too thrilled about the prospect of another bunch of adults staying in their home.

“It won't be for long,” Raquel promises reassuringly.

“And all of them are a lot of nicer than Tokyo here,” Berlin adds with a sly smile.

“Oh, thank you very much, Berlin _._ So generous of you to let me stay when seemingly _everyone_ is welcomed in your home,” she says and gives Raquel a disparaging look.

“Tokyo, this is hardly-” Sergio starts, but is interrupted by his brother, “This must be hard for you to understand, but some people naturally posses more redeeming qualities than others. You, of course, proofed yourself to be a major pain in the ass once again with your appearance.”

“It's not Wednesday, you're not allowed to swear,” Paula immediately scolds him which makes Palermo laugh and Tokyo obviously stunned. Ignoring Paula and looking back and forth between Sergio and Berlin she says, “Is this for real? You _must be_ shitting me, right?”

When Paula opens her mouth to surely remind Tokyo as well that it's _not Wednesday,_ Mariví suggest, “Why don't we eat in the living room and watch a movie, sweetie?”

“It's not Friday, either,” Paula says confused.

“Last time I checked it was,” Mariví states, already getting up, “Come on, I'll let you pick the movie.” With a mischievous grin Paula grabs her plate and nearly _runs_ out of the room, probably anxious that someone will call her back after all, and Raquel wonders whether her mother really thinks it's Friday or whether she just doesn't want to witness this awkward conversation. Probably a little bit of both.

“Thanks, for ruining the dinner,” Palermo groans after both left the room and lets the cutlery fall down onto the table dramatically, “Like-” but Tokyo interrupts him, “Let me guess; ' _like I ruin everything_ '? Very original. Besides, _I_ didn't-”

“Can we please talk about this like adults?” Sergio sighs, sounding tired, “It has been a long day and we'll spend at least a few weeks together, so we might not want to start fighting. Again.”

“I just don't get it,” Tokyo says with a shake of her head, “I _might_ be able to wrap my head around you and the Inspectora banging _or_ around Palermo and Berlin still acting like an old, married couple, but _both_? The four of you living together for _over a year_ without killing each other? Are you stoned? Is this a commune?” horror flashes over her face, “Please, don't tell me you're all fucking each other?! And if you do, don't-”

“What is wrong with you?” Palermo exclaims, while Sergio and Berlin look as horrified as her, and Raquel can't stop herself from laughing. Even though the pictures that come inadvertently into her mind are quiet disturbing, the idea itself is just hilarious _._ “Not everything is about sex.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Tokyo growls, “But what _is_ it about? Please, enlighten me.”

Sergio shrugs at that, small smile on his lips, “It's about _nothing._ I merely found my family in an unlikely place.”

-

“It's not that I don't want you there,” Sergio mumbles and strokes a stray wisp of hair out of her face, “I'm afraid I won't be able to concentrate when my main concern is your safety. During their time in the Mint I was scared something would happen to _any_ of them, but mostly Andrés, and even Martín. But this was different. With you... I won't get over it when something happens to you. I cannot allow it, not so much for the plan's sake but for my own.”

“We'll keep each other safe,” she says soothingly and props her head up on his chest to look into his eyes.

“We don't know that.”

“No, we don't. But I can't sit here and wait for you to come back, scared to turn on the news because what if they've arrested you? What if they killed you? Besides, I have insides on how they'll handle situations like that no research could ever bring you. You _need_ me there. The plan is nearly impossible to pull off as it is, but the moment they realize it's _you_ they'll do anything to put an end to this. It will be nothing like the Mint, Sergio, they won't play by the rules.”

“They already stopped playing by the rules when they took Rio.”

“Exactly, and if they do that to a little fish like him what do think they will do to you, or your brother, or even Tokyo?”

He sighs, “And that is why I don't want you there. Rationally, I know it's for the best, but what if-”

“Stop worrying. There will be the right time to do it, but it isn't now,” she kisses the furrowed lines on his forehead and tries to ignore the tight feeling in her own chest, “We deal with whatever happens when it comes, and until then we'll do our best to prepare. And I'm _with you,_ all the way. We'll get through this together.”

He takes hold of her shoulders and flips them around, covers her body with his and studies her face like he's looking for something, his own eyes full of conflict.

“You know, I won't stay behind. I won't let you leave without me,” she says in the end, the ' _again_ ' hanging unspoken between them.

“Yes,” he admits.

“Good.”

“But you can't go into the Bank. I... can't. And I need you by my side,” he groans as if it hurts him to say the next words, “I _want_ you there. Despite the risk, despite being scared, I want us to do this together.”

“We will be brilliant,” she grins, “Nothing will stop us.” She puts her hands in his hair, pulls him down to her and kisses him.

“Yes,” he moans into her mouth.

-

She takes Paula to the beach, hoping they won't be interrupted there. And hey, is there a better way to deliver bad news than sitting in the sand and eating ice cream? “I have to go away for a while,” she says after minutes of quietly pondering how to start this conversation.

“Oh, okay,” Paula shrugs and digs into the ice, looking for another piece of cookie. She has always eaten it like that, Raquel realizes, first the chunks of cookie or chocolate, and when she got everything she slurps down the nearly melted rests.

“I don't know for how long, unfortunately. But it will be at least a few months.”

Again Paula only shrugs, mumbling another 'okay' and shoves a big piece of cookie into her mouth. The indifference hurts even though she doesn't remember when her daughter cried or beg her to stay for the last time, and it's probably more of a testimony to her lacking parental qualities than anything else.

“Sergio will come with me. And Berlin and Palermo as well. We'll have to work together on this,” she delivers the next blow.

“Why?” suddenly Paula sounds puzzled, even a little bit angry, “They are not with the police.”

“No,” Raquel agrees, and with a sigh she adds, “A friend of them got abducted and we need to free him. It's... it's complicated, they can't call the police so I'll help them.”

“Did their friend steal something, too?” Paula whispers.

“Yes, he did, and that's why he was kidnapped. He is all alone right now and doesn't know there is someone looking for him. He's probably very sad.” Raquel had decided to be as honest as possible, but despite that she just isn't able to tell her any closer about what is currently happening to Rio, poor, young Rio's who's mother's face follows her into her dreams. How long can you shield your child from all the bad in this world, the woman seems to ask her every time with too wide, pale eyes.

“How will you help him out of there?” Paula asks, starting to sound wary.

“We will steal something the people who took him desperately need and then we'll give it back in exchange for him,” Raquel admits, “But-”

“It's a secret,” Paula interrupts, “And I won't tell anyone.”

“Yes,” Raquel nods and feels a lump forming in her throat, “I'm sorry you have to keep so many secrets for us. It's not fair, I should have never asked any of this from you.”

“It's okay, mum.” Even though it's hardly more than a whisper it sounds honest, which only makes it worse. “But if he was kidnapped because he stole something, will someone kidnap you, too?”

“No, no one will kidnap me or either of us. He was alone, but we won't be. That's why the four of us will go together, so that we can keep each other safe. And after we're done we will all come back.”

“Promise?”

She told herself she wouldn't lie. Concealing the details and rephrase what they'll do, yes, but no lying. However, when she sees the fear in Paula eyes, she says, “I promise.”

It has the desired effect and Raquel wonders how she is still being trusted after everything she has done. Clearly, she doesn't deserve it.

“You could...” she clears her throat, “You could come with us, if you wanted to. We'll live in the countryside in a beautiful monastery, it will probably be a little bit boring, but we'll be together. The friends Sergio told you about the other nightwill be there, too, and if you want to come grandma will, as well. It's... completely up to you.”

“How long will we stay there?” Paula asks after a few moments of thinking

“At least two months, maybe three.”

“I won't see my friends for _so long_?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Huh, can I think about it?”

“Sure you can,” Raquel nods and tries to smile reassuringly, “We'll still have to wait for Sergio's friends and then we'll leave one or two days later. You can decide until then.”

She only gets a nod as an answer and they both go back to eating their ice cream. With every bite it gets harder to swallow since her stomach started to twist and turn in a uncomfortable way, but she ignores it best as she can, trying to not let Paula on about how much the prospect of being separated again distresses her. Of course, she knew it's inevitable for days now, but the reality of it all suddenly comes crashing down on her. No matter how Paula decides, she won't be staying in Palawan much longer, not with the severe manhunt that certainly will be initiated after the heist. _'We'll go on a vacation'_ Raquel will tell her then, if- when she comes back, taking away yet another home away from her daughter. 

“Is Tokyo married, too?” Paula asks all of the sudden.

“What? Why do you think she's married?”

“Because Palermo told me his name is Palermo since he and Berlin got married. He said he took the name to show everyone they belong together.”

Raquel can't stop herself from laughing at that, “He has never told me that, but it sounds very much like him. And, no, Tokyo is not married, she just took the name.”

“Because it's cool? Palermo said getting a city-name is cool.”

“Yeah, Tokyo would probably agree.”

“So, why don't we have a city-name?”

“I don't know, I have never thought about it before.” It's not true, sometimes when she lies awake she thinks about what her life would be like if things went differently. If she left Alberto, and ultimately the police, sooner, if she met Sergio under ordinary circumstances. They would have fallen in love, of that she's sure, but what would happened to his plan? Would he left her to protect her, or would he have made her a part of it? Whenever she is particularly haunted by bad memories and nightmares she pictures herself being by his side while he bargains with the police, telling him about all of their personal weaknesses and the ways to get into their head. The thought is weirdly satisfying. And sometimes, when she drank too much wine and listened to one of Palermo's stories, she pictures herself going into the Mint, printing all that money and feeling _great._

“I think my name would be Vienna,” Paula says hesitantly.

Immediately, Raquel feels her eyes well up, remembers the short weekend-trip they took to that city, for the first time just the two of them, strolling the streets and cafés. She felt so happy and _unburdened_ there _,_ which made the anger waiting her at home only that much more unbearable. “That's a great name.”

Paula's smile nearly looks relieved and in a hopeful tone she adds, “What would be your name?”

The funny thing is that there has only been one name Raquel could picture for herself all those nights she indulged in her little fantasies, and looking into her daughters eyes she realizes that she thinking about the same name. With memories of long days on the beach, spending hours cuddling before getting up, ordering dessert every evening and at all times feeling free with the certainty of finally being divorced, she says, “I would be Lisbon.”

-

Two days later Sergio picks up the others from the mainland and Raquel is so weirdly anxious about the doubtlessly awkward reunion she'll be confronted with in a few hours that she looks for someone to take her mind off it. Since she asked the housekeeper to take her mother and daughter to the movies until the first _quarrels_ will be settled down, though, and since she's _definitely_ not in the mood to talk to Berlin on top of everything else, she joins Palermo in the kitchen. For someone who complained about having to see all of them again Palermo definitely puts _a lot_ of work into the dinner, she realizes amused upon seeing all those various dishes.

“Want some help?” she asks and only gets a nod and a glass of wine handed over as a reply. In the end she doesn't do much more than drinking and watching him, but it has the desired effect, and when she hears the door being opened she feels somewhat relaxed.

Of course, everyone is more or less shocked to see her, yet no one is nearly as openly hostile as Tokyo has been, which might be due to the general euphoria of seeing each other again that is clearly hanging in the air. After a few moments of the expected awkward silence _Stockholm_ begins to laugh, takes the few steps separating them and Raquel into her arms. “Glad I'm not the only crazy one,” she says while hugging her like an old friend.

The pleasant atmosphere doesn't last long, though, since soon Rio's absence is noted and Tokyo repeats her story. Sad looks are followed by cries of outrage when Sergio and Palermo elaborate the plan, though it surprisingly doesn't last long either, and within minutes everyone agrees to be a part of it. The rapidity in which they are persuaded makes her wonder whether they have secretly waited for an opportunity to pull off another heist, as well. No sane person would agree to this in the first place, wouldn't they?

When her mother and daughter get back from the cinema, Paula peeks shyly into the dining room and Raquel is glad for the excuse to leave. She takes Paula to her room, listens to the excited re-narration of the movie and tries to mask her discomfort as best as she can. Considering how Paula tries to make her laugh with every other sentence it's probably more obvious than she would like, after all. 

“We have to leave by tomorrow evening,” she finally confesses after tucking Paula in.

This time Paula doesn't say anything to it, neither does her face reveal the slightest emotion.

“You can decided tomorrow whether you want to come with us, but we need to know in the morning in order to pack your bags.”

“Okay,” she answers slowly, then a few seconds later, “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”

“No, of course not,” Raquel says and places a kiss on the tiny forehead, “We'll spend the day together, no matter what.”

She once again stays until Paula falls asleep, just that this time she selfishly prays more than ever that sleep will never find her daughter. When it does, though, she leaves the room hesitantly, lingering in the doorstep, looking into the unbelievably young face, and tries not to dwell too much on the fact that this could be the last time she watches her daughter sleep in a long time.

She doesn't feel like going back into the dining-oom, not just for her sudden melancholy but because no matter how nice they were to her in the end, she's an outsider and they probably deserve a few hours of enjoying being together again until tomorrow will bring back the harsh reality.

In their bedroom she is reminded of her first evening here, of the excitement and wariness that accompanied her and the horrible dinner she had shared with Sergio, Palermo and Berlin. All the other, in one way or another, _memorable_ days come back to her mind as well, little snippets of a life she wouldn't have dreamed of living three years prior. Memories that she has saved in pictures to take with her on a stick, just like she did with the reminders of all the good things Paula and her experienced, when she left Spain. In a few weeks she'll be back there, she realizes, and the prospect is as frightening as it is alluring.

After standing aimlessly in the middle of the room for a few minutes she decides it's the most sensible option to go to bed early and get some rest, at least, since she surely won't be able to fall asleep. She doesn't know how long she lies awake, tossing and turning, and pondering every little detail that could go wrong, when the door is opened slowly and Sergio walks over as quietly as possible. Upon seeing she's awake he sits down on the edge of the bed whispering “Hi.”

“Hi,” she grins and takes his hand to feel it in hers.

“Everything was a little bit too much.” It's more of a statement than a question, so she only agrees with a nod. “The others went to bed, but we decided to open a bottle of wine. Want to join us?”

“Sure,” she says, another glass of wine or two might even help her sleep, “I'll be there in a minute.”

He kisses her before he leaves again and for a moment she wants to pull him down with her, enjoy their last evening here just the two of them. Later, she tells herself.

She gets up and into the bathroom and has a quick shower when she realizes how sweaty she is. Instinctively she reaches for clean clothes, but then her eyes land on the robe Sergio got her “so that you're not cold when you sit on the patio at night,” and feels her chest swell with the memory, thus she settles for that and a pair of short pyjamas. Besides, getting out of her clothing swiftly might come in handy later.

“Oh great, bump me a cigarette, will you?” Palermo asks as soon as she steps out of the house and he sees she's wearing the robe. The three men are sitting at the large table they sometimes eat breakfast at, four with wine filled glasses already standing in front of them. She gets on the bench next to Sergio, stretches her legs out to lean against him and is immediately pulled in tighter by an arm around her shoulders. After lightening a cigarette for Palermo and then for herself she takes a long drag, enjoying the waves of relaxation flowing through her body.

“Did Paula decide whether she'll stay here or not?” Sergio asks and takes the cigarette from her fingers to take a drag himself.

“No, I told her we'll leave tomorrow, but she didn't show any indication on how she feels about it. Which might be a way of saying she doesn't want to come without having to tell me, I really don't know.”

“Are you sure you want her to join us?” Berlin asks with a raised eyebrow and Raquel guesses he's not too found of living together with not just one but two children for months in a crowded place.

“I don't want to leave her behind. Again. And I already placed her in a house full of criminals, once, so where is the harm in doing it a second time?” she shrugs with a small grin.

“It would be so great, though,” Palermo exclaims, “She'll be in the classroom with us while _our Professor_ tells us everything about the plan she gets exercises on her own, so it will be like real school, only better. And on some lessons she can even join in, sewing a dead pig back together makes for a great biology lesson after all.”

“We will definitely not do that,” Sergio says with a shake of his head.

“Oh, come on, she would _love_ it. Besides, we have the obligation to train the next generation. Look at Denver and Stockholm, they're already taking care of it.”

Raquel laughs at that and takes a sip of her wine, “I was surprised to see her so calm around you two, though, you _did_ try to get her killed after all.”

“For once I am totally innocent,” Palermo says, throwing his hands defensively into the air, “However, after the heist we were forced to stay on a boat for a few days, the whole lot of us, and she and Berlin _talked_ through it.”

“Way to put it, she slapped me.”

“Multiple times,” Sergio adds.

“And called you a few creative insults. Damn, she was scary, for a moment I even thought she would throw you over the rail,” Palermo smirks.

“Not that you wouldn't have deserved it,” Sergio mumbles.

“Well, I'm prone to make woman act out in extreme ways when they come close to me.”

“Oh god,” Raquel groans, “You're horrible.”

“That's my charm,” Berlin winks and takes one of Palermo's hands into his own. It's nearly possessive.

“But honestly, I thought everyone would be far more hostile, especially towards me,” she admits.

Berlin smiles weakly, “I wasn't lying when I said that Tokyo is by far the worst of them. Even though they expressed their astonishment over you being here after you left the room.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugs.

“I hate to admit it,” Palermo says quietly, “But I missed those idiots. Didn't think we'd see them ever again, and despite the _shit_ that went down in the Mint I want them to be part of the plan.” Groaning he gulps down the majority of wine, “Don't you dare to tell _anyone_ I said that.”

“Of course not,” Raquel nods with a very serious face, “We don't want anyone to know you're capable of having feelings.”

“It would undermine my leadership,” Palermo nods and stubs his cigarette out.

“ _Your_ leadership,” Berlin asks, leaning a few centimetres away and letting his gaze wander up and down Palermo's body, “Last time I check it was me who was in charge.”

“Sure, ' _last time_ ' and ' _was_ ', past tenses. This is my plan, so naturally I should by in charge when we'll go into the Bank.”

“Your plan? I remember you saying, and it was just _this morning_ , 'Oh, Berlin, I'm so happy we're finally going through with _our_ plan,' and 'I'd be lost without your brilliance' followed by a 'Please, fuck me harder'.”

Sergio, who just took a sip of his wine, chocks on it and wheezes, “Do you need to share such details with us.”

“Come on,” Palermo laughs, “I'm nearly one hundred percent sure you had sex on your own, by now, so it shouldn't be too surprising for you that _other_ people are having sex. On a very regular basis, as well, might I add. _And_ you watched us do it once.”

“You did what?” This time it's Raquel's turn to choke on her wine.

“I _did not_ watch you! I merely disrupted a rather... inappropriate moment. I-”

“You ran into our bedroom, without even taking your time to knock, what exactly did you think you'd find there?” Palermo interrupts him with a smirk that indicates he enjoys the blush that creeps up on Sergio's cheeks entirely too much.

“Obviously not _that._ Do we really have to talk about it, again? Especially tonight, when it's our last evening here that I rather not spend it being reminded of that sight.”

Not their last evening here in a long time, the last evening period. Raquel feels the playful atmosphere shift all of the sudden, sees her own uneasiness reflect on the other faces. Deep down she always knew they wouldn't stay here for the rest of their lives, to be honest she didn't even see herself here in five years from now, but she never thought they'd leave so abruptly and under such circumstances. Despite the possibility of staying behind never crossed her mind, it's like the wonderful, nearly boring day to day life has been taken from her forcefully, and she still isn't quite able to wrap her head around the fact that it's _over._ Only now _,_ while looking into the faces of the three men she had spent her life and her _family_ with for over a year, she seems to grasp the extent of their decision to free Rio.

She gets lost in her thought and when the heavy silence becomes more and more unbearable she clears her throat, “A year and half ago I probably wouldn't have dreamed of saying this, but I'm really glad it was not just Sergio whom I found here.”

“No, please don't get sappy, now,” Palermo groans, somewhat sounding like he choked on his wine himself.

“Sorry, for stating the truth,” she chuckles and gives Sergio a thankful look who got another bottle of wine from where-ever and starts to refill their nearly empty glasses, “I'm truly glad we got over our initial disagreements, and that you not just welcomed me but my daughter and mother into your home.”

“They make it really hard to _not_ like them,” Palermo grumbles and seems to be as thankful about the refill of his glass as herself.

“Yes, they certainly do,” Sergio agrees and places a small kiss on her temple, “And I'm grateful you decided to come here despite everything.”

“You're acting as if we will be dead by tomorrow, and not merely have a change of location,” Berlin huffs.

“Sorry, that some of us are having feelings, you grumpy bastard.”

“ _You_ said they are not allowed to get sappy literately a few seconds ago.”

Palermo rolls his eyes, “Yes, because I don't want to be reminded of this being over now. I've wanted to melt gold with you for years, you know I did, but more than anything I wanted to _be_ with you. And we never... it has never been that _perfect_ before, and I know I won't be able to live without it. Without you,” he pokes his finger into Berlin's chest, “I already came close to loosing you in the Mint and I cannot go through it again. I'm looking forward to it, I'm as excited as I was for those months we lived in the monastery for the first time and came up with the plan, but I'm _terrified_ ,” unceremoniously he swallows down the content of his nearly full glass of wine and continues with a throaty voice, “And yes, I'm happy you joined us here, as well, Raquel. Despite hating your guts and thinking you wanted to get us killed, in the beginning, I liked living with you.”

She smiles at him, being touched by those unexpectedly emotional and kind words, and watches Berlin placing his hand cautiously on Palermo's shoulder, “You won't loose me, love, I won't let that happen. We'll enter and leave this Bank together.”

“You don't _know_ that,” Palermo snaps and Raquel feels reminded of a quite similar conversation she had with Sergio a few nights ago.

“I _do_ know that I won't let you die, that there is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. And after being by your side for so long I'm certain this is mutual,” he takes one of Palermo's hand into his own and kisses the knuckles. The replied, “Of course, it is,” is barely audible. The look in both of their eyes lets a shiver run down her spine, and for a moment she is nearly scared of what either of them will be capable of if the other indeed got killed.

“No one will die,” Sergio growls, and Raquel feels his arm tense around her shoulders, “We've learned from our past mistakes, we will go into this not just better prepared but with a _billion_ euros that will ensure we're getting all the help we need. We're getting out of this alive, all of us.”

“Then let us hope we won't get arrested, either. When you have to choose between spending your life in a cell and death, then death is the more appealing choice by far,” Berlin states and for a seconds Palermo seemingly wants to protest, but thinks better of it. Whether he's staying silent because he just isn't in for a discussion or he's having similar thoughts Raquel doesn't dare to say.

Those same questions creped up on her countless of times in the last few days, _what if Sergio dies, what if we're getting arrested, what if anyone dies, what if I die,_ and whenever she caught herself pondering them she scolded herself since there was no point. Since the only way of ensuring that nothing of this is going to happen is to be there and forget about the fear that is clawing on the edges of her mind more and more frequently.

“No on is getting arrested, either,” Sergio objects and if it weren't for the hardly noticeable tremble in his hand on Raquel's shoulder he might have sounded convinced.

“If I...” she whispers and clears her throat to continue with a steady voice, “If something happens to me you have to promise you will take care of Paula. My mother is hardly able to take care of herself any more and she won't... please, make sure my daughter is safe.”

“Raquel-” Sergio mumbles with a pained voice, but is interrupted by Palermo, “We promise. _If_ you won't be coming back we will take care of her, make sure she has the best life anyone could ever wish for.”

“We will,” Berlin nods, with a surprisingly sincere look.

“You know I'd do anything for her,” Sergio sighs, “And I will do _everything_ to ensure all of us are getting out of it, but if... Paula will always be taken care of, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly. It's reassuring to hear those words, even though it probably shouldn't be considering who the men saying those words are. Thieves, robbers, criminals, public enemies even, and a few weeks from now she won't be any better. The thought is mostly appealing. She laughs at that, low and unintentional. “But no more teaching how to steal or how many meals a hostage needs during the curse of a heist.”

“This is quite advantageous knowledge,” Berlin smirks.

“Not for a nine years old,” she disagrees and sounds less harsh than she intended to.

“Didn't you listen to me when I said we have an _obligation_ to train the next generation?” Palermo scolds.

“What did I get myself into?” she sighs, not able to stop herself from grinning, and gulps down the remainders of her wine. No matter what will happen tomorrow, or the day after, or next month, for tonight feels happy, and Sergio's lips kissing her temple and his warm embrace around her body seem to confirm she's not the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I've really done it. Tbh I wasn't sure whether I'd make it through when I started writing and never dreamed of this becoming soooo long.  
> It's absurd how many hours I spent with thinking about this story and how much I enjoyed it, and I'm not quite ready to let go of it lol. Thank all of you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos, it was so nice to see people liking this and I'm madly happy about it still.


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